


Thicker Than Blood

by PaintedGhostOrchid



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Romance, Sexual Content, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedGhostOrchid/pseuds/PaintedGhostOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's entire world is turned upside down when she learns that her adopted parents had previously erased certain memories from her past with an experimental procedure. At age 25, she opts to have the procedure reversed, and discovers the horrible truth about her childhood and her original family- and all the shocking and dreadful secrets that come with it.</p><p>But most importantly, she learns the truth about her step-brother who supposedly died when she was eleven years old. And now Clarke must face the demons and nightmares in her past in order to find him.</p><p>And in the midst of all the darkness, he may end up saving her in ways she could have never expected...</p><p>A new twist on Bellarke Romance</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is very unusual in it's premise- and it will certainly not be for everyone's tastes. So fair warning- because some people may find certain aspects of this disturbing. However, I hope to make this about searching for connection and love in the darkest, most twisted of circumstances. This will start off very grim (and probably confusing) but will quickly evolve into something hopefully much more touching and beautiful. (Fingers Crossed!!) :)
> 
> So if you read this, try to keep an open mind and I hope you enjoy it! And most of all, please let me know what you think, and if I should continue or not? Because at this point I'm just sort of testing this concept out. Your feedback will help me decide!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you everyone!! :)

Clarke clutched at her chest, trying to still the violent hammering of her heart. The memories flashed before her eyes like a movie reel, a merciless blur of images and faces and sounds that whirred and blended together in vibrant colors and broken, fragmented voices. They resembled the mixed paint that crusted under her fingertips and smeared beneath her palm on the canvas, turning the peaceful white surface into a violent array of splatters and drips and streaks. She looked at the chaos of the painting before her, and it was like her own madness was staring back at her. _Taunting_ her.

She clamped her hands over her ears and started to scream- trying to drown out the noise in her head.

A moment later the white coats came rushing in, and before she could blink they were grabbing hold of her arms and plunging a syringe deep into the side of her neck. She screamed even louder- a shrill, blood curdling pitch that echoed through the common room where the other patients had gathered around to watch.

“So much for the painting calming her nerves…” One of the male nurses snidely remarked, and the other nurse shot him a glare, murmuring soothing words to Clarke as the tiny blonde slumped to the ground beneath them. She was reduced to a shivering heap on the concrete floor, her screams finally quieting as the medicine worked its way through her system, smoothing out her nerves and blanketing her mind in a beautiful, sedating numbness.

She felt the exhaustion of the day- of the entire _nightmarish_ week- pulling her under as her eyelids finally slid closed; and she surrendered herself to the darkness.

 

 -------------------------------------------

 

It was her 8th day in the facility, and Clarke twitched nervously as she sat alone in the doctor’s office. Her blue eyes wandered around the room, combing over the endless amount of plaques and degrees and achievement awards that peppered the maroon walls and lined the plush, mahogany desk in front of her. A soft flame crackled and dance in a fireplace to her left, and Clarke memorized it’s lilts and movements in her mind as she forced herself to breathe, reminding herself that this was what she wanted. All of _this_ was what she had fought for- the facility, the treatment, the memories- an entire life that escaped her and that she was now here to reclaim as her own.

Clarke needed the answers to these burning questions that had plagued her since her childhood, fillers for the black voids in her heart that no amount of lying or deception or cutting-edge technology could steal away from her.

_But damn…she never expected it to be this painful._

Her head turned as Dr. Jaha came walking through the door, as usual sporting his cardigan and black-rimmed glasses, and taking a seat behind the desk. He simply stared at her for a moment, an un-faltering gaze that made Clarke lean forward, waiting with baited breath for his first words.

“Clarke.” He finally addressed her, his voice strong and even. “You’ve been here over a week, and despite your break-down in the common room yesterday, I think it’s time.”

Clarke nodded, steeling herself for what was to come. “Thank you.” She whispered. “Now please- tell me everything.”

“I have to warn you Miss Griffin. What you are about to learn will be very disturbing. Life changing even- probably more so than you may be prepared for.”

She chuckled darkly, “With all due respect doctor, these memories and images have been haunting me for days now, most of which have felt more like a nightmare. So I’ve been preparing myself for the absolute worst, and at this point I really just need you to piece it all together for me.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath. “I assure you, I can handle it.”

Dr. Jaha held her gaze a moment longer, as if he was trying to warn Clarke with his eyes- usually such dark, stoic eyes filled with logic and reason, but were now tinged with the slightest bit of apprehension and fear. Clarke fought the urge to run away, and she gave him a hard nod to proceed.

 Jaha sighed, leaning forward on his desk and lacing his fingers together, and then began launching head-first into the story she had been waiting her entire life to hear:

 “Clarke- as you know by now, this is not the first time you and I have met. I first met you when you were only eleven years old, just after you were adopted by Abigail and Jake Griffin. After your original family died, the Griffins desperately wanted to give you a clean slate, so they hired me to perform an experimental treatment on you that involved brain mapping and memory reduction. You were the first person to ever have this type of treatment, and even after the first couple months it was already a massive success. I brought you into this very mental facility, and you were hooked up to a sensory machine that was able to map certain types of images and memories in your brain, ones that were attached to pain receptors and deep-seeded anxieties, and I was able to remove them from your mental archives completely.”

Clarke nodded again slowly, this bit of information wasn’t particularly new to her, but hearing it this directly and this detailed was rather jarring. She swallowed hard. “So what you’re saying is- you erased my childhood.”

Jaha pressed his lips together. “Essentially, yes. But not completely- technically I only erased the bad parts, the things that Jake and Abigail wanted you to forget. That’s why you still remembered certain memories of your old family, the ones that brought you happiness and were compatible with the idea of a normal, healthy life. Because unfortunately, the reality was very, _very_ different. Your adoptive parents weren’t necessarily trying to brainwash you Clarke, in fact they only wished to protect you.”

Clarke stiffened her shoulders; she was so tired of people trying to protect her. These people had no right to decide how she remembered her past, and they had a lot of nerve to pretend like it was all in her best interest to just wipe away entire years of her life. And now, at the age of 25, Clarke had managed to discover the truth and had practically broken down the doors to Dr. Jaha’s office two weeks earlier in a heated rage, demanding that her old life be returned to her.

 So she had spent the last week in this mental hospital, hooked up to endless wires and tubes and injected with strange liquids-all of which were meant to reverse the affects of the treatment that had been forced upon her when she was a child. Since then, she was willingly inflicted with a thunderstorm of headaches and a constant stream of dark and twisted images flashing before her eyes. And now, at day 8- those images and pictures had already begun forming into whole memories- and it was the realization of these emerging memories that had thrown her into meltdowns like she experienced earlier during her art-therapy session.

Now that the dark holes in her childhood were filling up so quickly, the emotions that were suppressed for nearly 14 years came crashing over her like a tidal wave. And almost of every second of every minute she felt like she was barely treading water and drowning in her own brain, the new memories swallowing her whole in a way she could have never expected.

What she desperately needed was somebody to help her push together the scattered pieces of the puzzle, to re-construct her own reality.

Clarke cleared her throat. “I don’t care about their reasons for erasing my memory. All I care about is learning the truth.”

Dr. Jaha gave the girl before him a brisk nod, and then without any further ado- he plummeted back into the tale of Clarke’s past:

 

"Clarke. You and your family were never involved in a car accident when you were eleven years old. The idea of a car accident was planted into your mind as a way to explain your family's death, as well as your gaps in memory- since you were told it caused you partial brain damage after being the only lone survivor.  But none of that ever happened. The truth was that your original parents- meaning your father and step-mother- actually committed suicide during a stand off with the police. They shot themselves right in front of you and your step-brother, in the living room of your childhood home. The police surrounded the house and you were both taken into protective custody. The Griffins adopted you shortly thereafter."

Clarke listened in silence, trying to wrap her head around what she was hearing . As he spoke, she could feel the coldness seeping through her skin, the truth of his words burning like icy fingers that curled around her heart. She tried not to shudder.

_There was never any car accident..._

She shook her head. "But I don't understand....why would they be in a stand-off with the cops in the first place? Were they some kind of criminals?"

Jaha gave her that look again, like he was trying to caution her not to press any further, but the way she stared back at him expectantly left the doctor with no other choice but to continue.

"They were worse than criminals Clarke. David and Aurora Blake were very dangerous and disturbed people. They were drug addicts and abusers, but worst of all....." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "They were _murderers._ They were suspected of killing at least five innocent people, maybe even more. They would abduct people and hold them for ransom money, during which time they would force their victims to live in your house- chain them up in the basement or tie them to a kitchen chair while all of you sat and ate at the dinner table. They would convince you and your step-brother that their victims were house guests, and from the psychiatric evaluations performed on both of you, chances were you both lived in a constant state of fear and abuse...therefore you were both too frightened to question their actions. I also suspect there was probably a heavy level of denial there, children growing up in such grim circumstances often grant themselves with delusions or create ways to ignore what's happening around them- merely as a means of survival."

Then Dr. Jaha went silent for a moment, his forehead creasing as he studied the girl across from him, guaging her reaction.

But at first there was none. Clarke only gazed back at him with wide, hollow eyes. It was almost like she was seeing past him, the connections suddenly clicking together in her mind. 

 _Logic._ She thought.  _Focus on the pieces, focus on the puzzle. Focus on how his words match the memories lodged in your brain. Don't think about emotions.._ she instructed herself... _only try to imagine the bigger picture here...not the details._

_Not the horrifying, gruesome details..._

"Clarke..? Are you okay?" The doctor's voice was far away now, the room was staring to spin as the sweat dripped from her brow.

" _Murderer_ s?" She heard herself whisper, though she wasn't entirely sure that her mouth was actually moving. She could see the doctor peering at her from over his glasses, his features re-working into some kind of careful composure. So as not to frighten her anymore than he already had.

"Remember Clarke.." His voice echoed again, like it was calling to her from a tunnel. "Who your parents were doesn't define you. This was many years ago, and that part of your life is long gone. They can't hurt you anymore, they can't hurt anyone."

But his words fell on deaf ears. She just kept swallowing over and over, trying to block her heart from surging into her throat- cutting off her airway as she leaned forward and gripped the edge of the desk with her fingers.

She was going to vomit.

" _Oh God_ , this can't be happening..." She pleaded with herself, trying to catch her breath. "No...no...this is just another one of my bad dreams. I'm just going to wake up now and everything will be like it was before and...".

The sounds of screams suddenly filled her ears- somebody's other than her own. Then more images and emotions came rolling in, the noise buzzing in her brain like a colony of bees swarming her body. She shook her head, her fists clamping over her ears as she tried to shut out the chaos and the memories pouring in now one after the other-

_A man in a suit shaking at the end of the table, her step-mother forcing food down his throat, ordering him to eat. Her father slamming his fists on the table to grab Clarke's attention- then smiling and asking how her first day of grade school was. Telling her to ignore the man pleading for mercy only three feet away from her...._

_A five-year old Clarke shivering in her bed, burying her head in her pillow as she tries to ignore the sound of muffled screams coming from another room. Her step-brother crawling into bed with her, pulling her tightly against him as they hold each other- waiting for the night to be over. He hushes her silent tears, kissing her forehead and telling her everything will be okay._

_"What are those noises?" Clarke asks._

_She feels his heart beating faster against her ear. "Don't worry. Mom and Dad are only watching a scary movie with their new friend."_

_"But why do their friends stay the night? Why do they always act so scared?"_

_He squeezes her tighter. "I don't know...t_ _hey tell me they're just playing a game."_

_Clarke holds her breath for a moment longer, then lifts her chin to look up at him. "Promise you won't let anything bad happen to me?"_

_The young boy gazes back at her, his sad eyes searching her face. He leans forward and kisses her gently again on the forehead._

_"I would never let anything bad happen to you," He whispers softly. "I promise. And no matter what, we'll always have each other Princess. Nobody will ever take you away from me..."_

 

Suddenly Clarke froze, as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed over her body- dragging her out of her flashback. Her eyes widened into giant blue spheres as she stared up at the doctor, a new realization dawning in her heart.

"Dr. Jaha..." She breathed. "If my family didn't die in a car accident..and my parents committed suicide during a stand-off with the police...then what happened to my _brother_?"

Jaha leaned forward on his desk, a solemn expression taking over his features. "You have to understand that your adopted parents, the Griffins, felt it would be best to separate you from your past completely, and not to have any possible reminders. And since you and your step-brother were never related biologically- the foster system allowed for you two to be split up. Within a month you were flown to meet your new parents across country in California, and he was left to remain in foster care. Also, he was three years older than you, so he was probably a less desirable option for most families."

She blinked, letting his words sink in.  _Foster Care._ She thought.  _Not death, foster care._

Clarke's eyes grew even wider, the hope blossoming in her chest. "Are you telling me...that all this time, my brother has been _alive_?!"

For the very first time, the doctor's face relaxed into a smile.

"Yes Clarke.Your _step-brother_ has been alive and well for the past 14 years."

 

And then the world stopped. A beacon of light came shining through the darkness in Clarke's mind, her heart bursting in her chest as she realized that all faith was not lost. That the only person she ever truly loved and every truly remembered throughout the years, the person who had been ripped away from her when she was only eleven years old..

The boy she cried for every night after the "car accident" supposedly took his life...was now the one person she was determined to find more than anything.

Because the last piece of Clarke's puzzle- was _Bellamy_.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 The weeks that followed in the psychiatric facility were fraught with stormy weather and sullen, grey skies. Clarke stared out the window of the common room, curled up on the windowsill as she watched the rain drops trickle down the glass. She mostly kept to herself, since the other patients were in there for different reasons than she was- such as serious mental illnesses or addictions. But she couldn't shake the feeling that these people were frightened of her, especially during the times her new memories would come rushing in and she would collapse on the floor in seizure-like fits, sending the other patients running to their rooms in fear. 

And if the isolation didn't made her feel like a freak, finding out that she was the surviving daughter of a murderous couple certainly did.

But somehow Clarke's newly leper-like status granted her a special kind of protection in Mount Weather Psychiatric Asylum. And the further others stayed away from her, the more she could focus all of her energy on cataloging every new memory and and image in her brain- confronting every horrible detail and every conjured emotion. She desperately tried to accept the idea that her original parents were monsters. Tried to reconcile these startling new memories of her father David, and step-mother Aurora, with the ones she had been allowed to remember throughout the years. Because prior to having the procedure reversed, all she could remember about them were the times they bathed her as a child, or nursed her to health when she was ill. She would even wistfully think back on the times they camped in the wilderness together or ran along the beach as a family- as a normal,  _loving_ family.

And it didn't even matter that her father's wife wasn't her real mother and Bellamy wasn't her real brother, because from the time she was a baby up until she was eleven years old- they were the only family Clarke had ever known.

But those nicer memories of her parents had been few and far between, since the memory erasing had only left the rarer, happier times behind. So it now made sense to her that the majority of the memories that had stayed with her throughout the years had everything to do with _Bellamy_ instead. Her step-brother was almost always the one to nurse her to health when she was sick, or to brush and braid Clarke's long blonde curls on her first day of school. He had been the one playing tag with her on the beach, or sneaking her out in the middle of the night to take her dancing in a field of wildflowers.

That last memory had always been her favorite.

But now that the rest of her memories were returning- she knew he was there for her during the dark and terrible times as well, holding her close in their beds as they waited for the screaming to stop. Telling her that all the horrors she had seen were nothing more than a nightmare.

Bellamy protected his step-sister the best he could, but he himself was living in constant fear and trepidation- waiting for the day he could whisk Clarke away into the night and start a new life together. 

 

Clarke sighed, because it was all so surreal. Experiencing decades-old memories for the first time, having them feel so real that she could _touch_ them and _taste_ them and _feel_ them burning under her skin.

 

But the longer she stayed, the better it got. She fought nightmares while both sleeping and waking, but the neuro-blockers they injected her with and the sensory machines they hooked to her forehead all had a way of making it all clearer, more manageable. They supplied her with mood stabilizers to keep her emotions as level as possible, and by the 4th week Clarke was no longer collapsing or having fits. Even some of the other patients felt comfortable enough to start sitting next to her or making small talk at lunch, which was nothing short of a miracle.

 

Day 30 arrived so slowly and so quickly at the same time, leaving Clarke with the feeling that she had spent an eternity- and barely a day- locked up inside Mount Weather.

 

And now she found herself standing by the front door, waiting for her paperwork to clear so she could leave this place once and for all. She had finally been able to revive herself with a hot shower and exchange her bland, white gown for jeans and a black tank top. She had even applied makeup and styled her hair in loose blonde waves, wanting to piece her old self back together as humanly as possible.

A small herd of nurses, and even a few patients, had gathered by the doors to watch her leave. They smiled and gave her encouraging words, but in reality she knew they were all secretly fascinated by the moody blonde with the serial killer parents. The only true and honest smile she received was when Dr. Jaha came walking out between them, carrying a stack of papers on a clip board.

"Here." He said. "Sign these."

Clarke flipped through the stack, signing along the dotted lines.

"Congratulations Miss Griffin, you are officially released." He reached out to shake her hand. "Go on with your life Clarke, form new memories and forget about the past as best you can. Remember to live in the here and now, because that's all we can control."

Clarke chuckled, "Is that this place's motto, or something?"

 Dr. Jaha raised his brow, pulling one last piece of paper from his pocket and placing it directly into her palm. "That being said, take this. And please- use this information wisely."

Clarke nodded quietly, a tiny smile forming on her lips. 

 

It wasn't until she was walking down the driveway, breathing the fresh air once more, that Clarke studied the paper in her hand. It was a map of a town she had never heard of, some place called Sandusky, Ohio. In the upper right corner was a giant red circle- honing in on a particular address.

At the top of the map, written in bold black marker, were the words-

" _Find him._ "

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter is here! I really hope and pray you guys like this one! This will dig deeper into the whole Bellamy side of things- without revealing everything completely...YET ;) There's a lot of emotion in this part, so I had to get myself into all kinds of wacky moods to make it sound convincing :)
> 
> Please leave your comments or opinions or reviews- honestly guys, your words keep my writing muse chained to my desk so I can keep moving my stories along! Sp pretty please with cherries on top let me know what you think!! :)
> 
> Thank you for all of your wonderful support so far, and enjoy!

When Clarke’s plane landed at Burke Lakefront Airport, she was pleasantly surprised at the warm, tepid air rolling off the lake’s waters. She hadn’t been to Ohio since she was a child, and even then her memories of the buckeye state’s weather patterns were extremely grim at best. But her plane’s descent into the sunnier, more thriving side of Ohio brought with it the realization that she really had no idea what to expect here. Her childhood home had been in the tiny rural town known as Circleville, which was literally _hours_ from the Cleveland airport and was as far removed from the city itself as the sun was from the moon. The vibrant, concrete cityscapes of Cleveland were a harsh contrast to the lazier, rolling hills of a town like Circleville.

 

Clarke studied the map closely as she strolled through the airport doors, searching for the odd little city that floated somewhere between the high-rises and the farm fields, the western town known as Sandusky. The very same town her step-brother was apparently residing in, and the very same town that she pointed out to the man at the rental car office.

"Sandusky?" He asked, scratching his head curiously. "That's about one hour west of here, you can take 90 west until it changes into RT. 2, then keep going west until you get off at the Munn Rd. exit. That will take you right into the heart of town."

Clarke nodded, giving him money that had been wired directly from a special account set up by the Griffins. Clarke imagined it was something like "please don't hate us for erasing your brain" type money- but she was willing to accept it regardless, even if she still refused to answer their calls. She would only respond to her mother's pleading, inquiring texts once per day, simply typing  _"I'm fine"_ to let them know she was still alive.

The Griffins had always been overly protective of her, and after all this, she finally had an inkling as to why. She knew she had to forgive them eventually, but right now she didn't have nearly enough room in her brain to deal with her adopted parents- so she shelved all those feelings away for a simpler time.

A time when she wasn't about to hunt down her long lost step-brother- who apparently  _wasn't_ dead like everybody had so kindly convinced her.

 

Minutes later Clarke had the keys to a shiny new SUV, and she found herself cruising down interstate 90 and blasting her radio on full volume. Sometimes she needed the constant stimulation and noise to help keep her mind from relapsing into flashbacks, even though those types of memories were beginning to intrude on her less and less.

Still- the quiet _terrified_ her, and she stayed away from the silence as much as she could- fearing that her brain would find a way to fill the empty spaces with images of basement dungeons and serial-killer parents.

But Clarke reminded herself to focus on the present so she could get through this day unscathed, heeding Dr. Jaha's words and moving forward with her life in every way possible now. Except what Jaha _didn't_ realize was that in order for her to have a future that made any kind of sense to her- Clarke first had to revisit her past.

 

The robotic voice on her phone's GPS system counted down the miles to exit 34- and Clarke felt her stomach churning nervously with every new announcement that she was getting closer and closer to her destination.

Closer to finding Bellamy...

" _20 miles until exit 34- Munn Road."_

Clarke tightened her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to focus on the breeze as it flowed in through the passenger window.

_"10 miles until exit 34- Munn Road."_

She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, chewing on the skin hard enough to make it bleed.

_"1 mile until exit 34- Munn Road. Turn right at the exit."_

Clarke jerked her vehicle off to the shoulder, parking on the side of the highway so she could properly hyperventilate into her purse- using it like an oxygen bag. Something like 5...10...15 minutes passed before she was able to work up enough courage to steer herself back into traffic; finally cresting the hill to exit 34.

She breathed a tiny sigh of relief for making it this far.

 

Once off the exit, the SUV winded down a set of country roads, and Clarke's eyes caught a rusted blue sign that boldly broadcasted her entrance into Sandusky, OH. At first Clarke wasn't sure what to make of the town, spending the last thirteen years in a thriving place like Los Angeles was enough to skew any young girl's perception of reality. But this place wasn't exactly the rural, hillbilly town she'd lived in as a child either. It had far more stoplights and traffic signs than Circleville ever had, not to mention considerably less trailer parks and liquor stores littering every corner.

Instead- Sandusky was a city of ranch houses and the occasional motorcycle bar, and enough dirt on the roads to kick up dust in her wheels whenever she sped through a four-way stop. There were even certain parts of the city that edged along the picturesque shores of Lake Erie, and other parts that dwindled into grimy strip malls and more than a few "gentlemen's clubs" along the way.

Like many things in this world, Sandusky seemed to be an interesting hodge-podge of the charming mixed with the sullied- and every level between. But it wasn't until Clarke drove further down Munn Rd. that she realized she was weaving her way straight through to Downtown- and her eyes widened in surprise as she took it all in.

Downtown Sandusky was basically like a miniature, historic town on steroids. The buildings were larger-but not new. The streets were busier- but not crowded. And the whole place had the faint smell of lake water rolling in from the north side of the city. Everywhere she looked there were family-owned shops and diners alongside tattoo parlors and western-style storefronts, and smack dab in the middle of it all was giant a clock-tower that hovered over town square.

 _Quaint._ She thought.  _A little dirty- but quaint all the same._

But this odd little town held a lot more magic for Clarke than just the usual Midwestern architecture. Somewhere inside this city was the only person she had ever truly loved- the brother whose tragic death had left her scarred beyond repair at such an early, fragile age. The brother who haunted her dreams for years on end, leaving her to wake up in tears and clutching her pillow beside her- pretending it was Bellamy's warm arms she was clinging to instead.

But now she would never have to cry for him again.

 

Clarke parked her SUV at an old-fashioned meter and meandered her way along the sidewalks; allowing the sights and the sounds to soak in her senses- trying to grasp at the idea that this was  _his_ world she was now standing in. These streets were the same streets he drove on every day, and in her eyes, everything about this place belonged to Bellamy. Her breath caught as she realized that he could be anywhere right now- and she swiveled around to examine every dark-haired man that passed her on the sidewalk.

_But dammit-  she had no idea what he looked like these days._

As if perfectly on cue, three men mounting their motorcycles began whistling in her direction, and Clarke cringed at their chin strap beards and tacky leather vests. Praying that one of these men with the slimy smiles and the missing teeth wasn't her long lost brother.

But just then she started to wonder something...would he even be happy to see her now? Did he even remember her as vibrantly as she remembered him?

Or was Clarke just the pudgy, pimply faced little girl that he shared a nightmarish existence with when he was a child- and was likely the last person in this world that he ever wanted to see again? Maybe she should seriously consider that possibility...because seeing his step-sister could very easily stir up his own pandora's box of painful memories as well.

And maybe her step-brother desperately wanted nothing more than to leave the horrors of his past behind him- _including her_.

But Clarke shook the thought from her mind, because every new flashback and every long-standing memory she clung dearly to throughout the years painted Bellamy as nothing but a loving protector and bleeding-heart brother, a boy who gave her a reason to live in the darkest of times.

So she smiled as she pictured the scrawny, gap-toothed boy with the freckles and short black hair, and she told herself that everything was going to be okay this time. Because he was  _alive,_ and after all these years she was finally going to do what she once thought impossible-

She was about to speak with her dead brother again.

 _And to think_ \- she didn't have to wait to meet him at the pearly gates like the Griffins had told her, all she had to do was fly out to Midwestern Ohio.

 

Clarke's heart picked up speed now, and she raced forward towards the first friendly faces she could find. She stopped a couple of old men walking out of a barber shop, her hands shaking as she held up her map in plea.

"Hi! I'm sorry to bother you..but would you mind helping me find this address?"

The elderly man nodded, his wrinkled face stretching into a smile. "Sure thing sweetheart, let me take a look at that." He nudged his glasses up his nose and peered down at the map, squinting over the red circle. "You lookin' to get your car fixed, dear?"

She blinked, furrowing her brows. "No...why?"

"Because that there address is an auto-repair shop."

Clarke stared at the men blankly, realizing that this entire time she assumed she would be looking for a house- _not a business._

"Uhhh.." She cleared her throat. "Actually _yes_. I'm just getting some quotes on some work for a friend. Do you mind telling me where it is from here?"

The old man smiled again. "Just go straight down this sidewalk until you get to the corner, then swing a left and it'll be right past town square on the right hand side. You can't miss it, it's the best body shop in town."

"Thanks!" Clarke started to walk away, and then paused. "Wait- I'm sorry! Do you happen to know the name of the shop?"

This time the man's friend chimed in. "Well it used to be Pete's, until the new owner re-named it three years ago when he took over."

"And what is it now?" Clarke asked.

The two men glanced at each other, tapping their chins until the name finally dawned on them.

"Clarke's!" He answered. "It's called Clarke's Auto-Garage."

 

Her heart stopped completely.

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

Ten minutes later, Clarke found herself standing in front of a narrow, two-story building that sat just off the main road, situated on a quieter end of town. The sign hung in the front window, old and plastic, with the words "Clarke's Auto-Garage" scrawled across the front in slanted block letters. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm the fire in her nerves as she made her way across the street. But she froze again when her foot landed on the sidewalk, and her whole body began to buzz with a strange anxiety that felt all too familiar... almost like- _OH NO...  
_

She clamped her eyes shut, letting this one quick memory push it's way inside her brain- figuring she may as well let it happen while she was still alone.

Except these images felt entirely different, this time she was being shown glimpses from a memory that she had never completely forgotten in the first place-

 

_He squeezed her hand as they ran through the open field, the twilight sky bathing the field of flowers in darkness. They giggled, their fingers intertwined as their hands brushed along the tall blades of grass- watching as the moon peaked out over the clearing up ahead._

_"Not so fast!" Clarke gasped, her smaller legs hardly able to keep up with his._

_Bellamy stopped short, tightening his grip on her hand and swinging her gently against him._

_"Hey!"_

_"Hey what!?" He laughed, his freckled face smiling down at her. "Just because Mom and Dad forgot your birthday, doesn't mean I did."_

_Clarke gazed around at the field, watching the moonlight paint the flowers a deeper hue of purples and yellows and blues. It was almost magical, like the entire clearing was glowing beneath the stars- and nobody existed in the universe but just the two of them._

_"This place is amazing.." She whispered. "It's like a fairy tale!"_

_Bellamy reached up to lightly tug at one of her blonde curls. "So I guess that makes you the Princess then, huh?" He teased._

_The little girl beamed up at him. "You really think so?"_

_"Of course! We can be anything we want to be out here. This will be our secret place from now on, just for you and I."_

_Then her smile started to fall, and she bit her lip nervously. "But what if they find us here Bellamy? What if they hurt us for sneaking out so late- and we never get to come back?"_

_Bellamy cupped her tiny face in his small fingers, shaking his head softly. "Don't worry Princess, they're sound asleep and we'll be back in our beds before they ever knew we were gone." His face suddenly grew serious, much too serious for a boy of his age. "You know that I'd never let them hurt you, right?"_

_Clarke stared back at him, eyes twinkling. "I know," She whispered, and she looped her arm though his as they walked  together towards the edge of the pond. They stood staring out over the glistening water, both of them silently wishing they could stay in that field forever. Wishing they never had to go back home._

_"I love this place." She breathed. "Pinkie-promise me that we'll come back next year on my birthday again?"_

_"I pinkie-promise." Bellamy said, curling his little finger around hers. "And every year after."_

_"Until when?" She asked._

_The young boy gazed out over the lake, the moonlight dancing in his dark eyes. "Until we can run away from all of this for good...."_

 

 

Clarke's eyelids fluttered open, and the past melted away as the present seeped back into reality. She gazed up at the building that was still standing there - waiting for her to come closer. Both her past and her future twisting together in the form of an auto-garage that bore her name.

 _Because_ _the owner had re-named it..._

But she knew the time had come, and somewhere hidden inside that building her step-brother was waiting for her. And after 14 years, she didn't feel like waiting even a second longer.

She took one step forward, and then another. And then she took another, until she found herself studying her reflection in the glass door, wondering if her curve-hugging jeans and tightly fitted tank top were even appropriate for an occasion such as this. She fluffed up her mop of blonde curls, took in another deer breath, and then walked through the doorway with her purse clutched tightly to her side.

A bell sounded off behind her, signaling Clarke's entrance as she made her away across the tiny lobby. Her pulse jumped when she noticed a man with greasy overalls and dark hair seated behind the counter, his feet propped up casually as he read the newspaper and sipped at a mug of coffee. His eyes ticked up to meet Clarke's, and he quickly folded the paper in half and jumped to his feet.

"Hello miss.." He paused as his eyes rolled downward,  roaming over her form in a vulgar manner- and Clarke bristled. The man's face jerked into a gap-toothed smile as he stepped around the counter, drawing her full attention to a beer belly popping proudly from under his shirt. "How _exactly_ may I be of service to you today?"

The lewd tone wasn't exactly lost on her- and she tried her best not to cringe. "Uhhh.... _Bellamy?"_ She squeaked out, moving to cover herself as best she could.

 _Please don't let this be him...._ She prayed.  _Please..._

The man made a sort of grunting sound, his smile fading as he turned to shout behind him. "Hey Rick! We got a customer out here who wants to see the boss man, did he leave yet?"

Clarke felt a wave of relief rushing through her body, and her eyes darted to the second man's voice calling back to him. "Nah, he's still here. He's out back working on the Dodge."

Then her stomach lurched violently as she realized that he was _actually_ there.

"You a friend of his or something?" The toothless man eyed her suspiciously.

"Um-yes." She fidgeted, still covering her chest from his gaze. "Something like that... Do you mind if I go say hi?"

He gave her a brisk nod, jutting his thumb towards a hallway behind his right shoulder. "He's in the back garage, go knock yourself out kid."

"Thank you," She mumbled, and she made her way towards the hallway without even glancing back- ignoring the way the man's eyes followed her every move.

 _Breathe Clarke, breathe...._ She told herself, willing her feet to keep moving as her legs were quivering and her stomach was twisting into knots- each step bringing her closer to the boy she was never supposed to see again. She briefly closed her eyes, picturing her brother whose (fake) coffin she'd crouched over as a child- her tiny body heaving with sobs, the Griffins dragging her away as the coffin lowered into the ground...

_But here she was. Walking back to meet him again._

The hallway was dim and musty, and the deeper she walked down it the more she noticed the pungent odors of gasoline and rust clinging to the air and singing at her nostrils. Even her breath was burning her lungs now, and she focused her attention at the plaques and group photos of mechanics that lined the walls- wondering if any of them pictured Bellamy. There was a faded light at the end of the hallway, and it grew brighter as she walked towards it and finally crossed the threshold, her platform heels landing sharply on the concrete floors.

The garage was far larger than she had expected, rising nearly two stories high and closed in on all sides with dark walls. The only source of light was a small string of windows that shone down from the top, bathing the whole room in a murky greyish-yellow hue. There were at least five disassembled cars hoisted up on lifts, and she carefully stepped over the puddles of oil that dripped from their engines- and that's when she heard the music playing.

The thrashing of drums and electric guitars filled her ears, followed by the clanking and thumping of tools being used and tossed to the side. She laid her hand over her chest- trying to still the hammering in her heart as she walked closer. She followed the sound of the rock music, allowing her body to go numb as the guitar rifts led her blindly towards somewhere in the back corner. And then she finally spotted the Dodge. It's hood was propped open and all she could see was the jut of an elbow popping out the side, concealing the identity of the man working behind it.

 _But this was it, there was no going back now._ On the other side of that hood was the lost soul who had practically raised her as a child. The step-brother who was forever bound to Clarke by their murderous parents- and whose bond with her was so deep that it literally crossed an entire lifetime and years of memories to bring her back to this point- standing less than 30 feet away from him only 14 years later.

And then the car's hood came down- and there he was.

_Alive._

Before Clarke could even fathom the sight, Bellamy looked up to meet her gaze, and her heart literally froze inside her chest.

Because _my God_ she would recognize those eyes anywhere. Those eyes that were black as night and that familiar dusting of freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks. Even from this distance she could pick him out in a crowd as the boy who held her hand in a field of wildflowers and rocked her to sleep on the nights the screaming echoed through their bedroom walls.

But she hadn't been quite prepared for this- because there was so much about him now that she hadn't been expecting. And as he craned his neck to see the girl rooted to the ground ten yards away, he finally stood upright and started walking in her direction. And all of the blood turned to ice in Clarke's veins as she watched the ghost from her past coming into sharper focus. Her step-brother resurrected from the dead and heading straight towards her.

Except the person walking towards her now was definitely _not_ a little boy any longer. Her breath hitched at seeing that same golden skin- only this time stretched over a taut, muscular body thinly veiled by a dirty tank top. The arch of his shoulders were covered in the glisten of brown oil and sweat that migrated it's way down to his jeans, andeven his once boyish face had hardened into perfectly sculpted features and full lips. His hair was so much longer than she'd ever seen it before, no longer neatly trimmed- but now replaced by a mop of shaggy black tendrils that fell wildly over his brow.  

She watched him in some type of trance, every emotion of her past and present surging through her body, paralyzing her completely. She actively fought the urge that would send her running forward and leaping straight into his arms- and she convinced herself to stay frozen to the ground instead.

"Can I help you?" He finally called out, and even the rough, gravelly sound of his voice sent shivers up her spine. There was a hardened edge to it that hadn't been there as a child, and Clarke was reminded that it had truly been 14 years since she had last heard him speak. 

But at first she didn't reply. Her mind started to sputter backwards as her brain kicked into overdrive, and her thoughts began to race. She was suddenly gripped with the fear that maybe all of this was just another dream, one that would leave her feeling the pain of Bellamy being ripped away from her again when she opened her eyes. Or even if this _was_ real- he might reject her and banish her from his life forever, not wanting to spend a single second with a step-sister that would stir up the horrors of his past.

And for all of those reasons- as well as other feelings Clarke didn't fully understand; she grabbed the sunglasses perched at the top of her head- the ones big enough to cover half her face- and slid them down over her eyes. Hiding herself behind them.

Bellamy's brows furrowed as he wiped the oil from his hands with a rag, studying the girl standing rigidly in the distance.

"Are you _looking_ for some one?" He pressed harder.

But when she opened her mouth to speak, the words barely formed on her lips. "I uh....I'm uhh...."

_Oh God, this was pathetic._

"Wait a second....." He moved a step closer, and Clarke felt her nails digging in her palm. "...are you Mrs. Weymouth? Are you here to pick up the Dodge?"

Then without thinking Clarke clamped her mouth shut, nodding jerkily- feeling herself sinking further under her own cowardice. "I uhh.." She cleared her throat. "I mean yes- that's...that's me."

_Even she had no idea what she was doing at this point._

But Bellamy's shoulders relaxed slightly at her answer, and he tossed the rag off to the side.

"Well follow me then." He told her. "I'll show you what we found."

Clarke cursed herself under her breath as she followed him back to the car, watching as he expertly lifted the hood and leaned over the engine. She boxed her arms over her chest, as if they were the only means to hold herself together- standing so close to him now. As if she could ignore the warmth and vitality that radiated off his body and breathed the life back into her veins. But Bellamy didn't seem to notice her internal struggle, he just pointed to a steaming heap of metal bubbling somewhere near the center on the engine.

"We tried to separate the pistons and the cylinder walls." He began, "-or we attempted to, that is. Have you ever heard of a  _seized engine,_ Mrs. Weymouth?"

But Clarke was distracted by the sound of his breath so close to her ear- the very proof of her step-brother's existence only inches away. But he kept his eyes off her as he spoke, the sunglasses acting like a shield that seemed to detour him from her face completely.

But then she realized that he was actually asking her a question, so she tried to answer as calmly as possible- "Yes... I mean _no_ -no I haven't heard of that."

Bellamy continued to poke and prod at the hunk of metal, wincing as it melted under his wrench. "It means your lubrication failed, probably your oil pressure. So basically all of the moving parts scraped and melted together, forming this useless, heated glob you see now. I'm sorry to say we can't fix it, and we'd have to replace the whole engine to get it running again."

Clarke bit her lip, not sure of what to say next (being that it wasn't actually her car), but she scrunched her face in a genuine attempt at disappointment. "Oh-well..I guess I'll just have to buy a new-" She snuck a glance at the model name marked along the back. " _Caliber_. I'll guess i'll just have to buy a new Caliber then."

Bellamy peered at her from the corner of his eyes, like he didn't exactly buy that reaction. Then he shifted to lean his muscular form against the hood, his tattoos flexing along his biceps as he folded his arms and met Clarke's gaze dead-on. She waited for him to speak- all the while his dark eyes swept over her in a calculating way, sending tiny flames of heat dancing across her skin.

"You're not what I expected." He stated coolly, bluntly.

" _Excuse_ me?" She replied.

Bellamy raised his brow, "Mr. Weymouth is nearly sixty. I guess I just never expected his wife to be so..." He glanced her up and down, " _You know._ "

She blinked under her sunglasses, pressing them nervously to her face. "No I- I don't...I'm afraid I don't know what you mean?"

He tilted his head to the side, the corners of his mouth sliding up into a smirk. "Young and attractive."

Clarke's breath froze in her chest.

"I also find it strange you're not wearing a wedding ring either..." He observed, his eyes darting suspiciously to her left hand. "Getting a divorce already?"

She glanced at her fingers, curling them slowly into her palm to hide the shaking. "I don't....see how that's any of your business?"

Bellamy inched a step closer, his deep voice dropping to a low, sultry rumble. "Well it is my business actually, for two reasons. One- because I don't believe you're the real Mrs. Weymouth. And two-because even if you _are_ her, I'd really like to know if you're about to single."

"But..but _why_?" She stammered.

He took another step closer, his eyes glinting in a dangerously appealing way. "Because then I'd ask you to come out with _me_ tonight."

Clarke's legs threatened to buckle under the weight of his words and their meaning. She watched as Bellamy came closer still, her body slipping back into the paralysis she'd felt before- after seeing him for the first time. But now, to have her step-brother who she loved and missed more than life itself literally  _hitting on her_ felt completely surreal, especially since he didn't know who she truly was...

"You don't even know me." She choked out, the air leaving her lungs as he stood close enough to touch her now.

_That was a lie, he'd always known her better than anyone._

 Bellamy's eyes darkened, and a million memories of his smile didn't do justice to the grin he gave her now. He reached up and twisted his finger around one of her curls, and Clark's chest ached painfully with the familiarity of the gesture.

"Then let me." He whispered. And before Clarke could stop him, his finger slid along the side of her glasses and tugged them down in one swift movement.

And there she stood, her true identity naked and revealed before him- her heart hammering in her chest as she waited with baited breath for his reaction.

But for a moment, Bellamy only stared down at her, his expression frozen on his face. And then she saw the flash of painful recognition in his eyes as the sunglasses slipped from his fingers and came crashing to the floor- completely forgotten. Bellamy's smile faded, and every muscle in his body went rigid as the blood drained from his dark features.

And his next words struggled out from Bellamy's lips in tiny, grueling bursts of breath-

_"My God...it can't be...."  
_

Clarke felt the heat that tingled across her skin begin to seep into her veins, blanketing her heart in both rapture and fear as she gazed back into Bellamy's dark eyes, watching as they searched her face in a captivated wonder.

" _Clarke_?" He breathed again, and this time she answered him with a careful nod.

"Yes..it's _me_."

Bellamy's eyes widened as he drew in a breath, and he stumbled backwards slightly- leaving behind a brutal coldness that made her long for his warmth again. He reached up to scrub his hands over his face, roughly dragging his fingers back through his curls in disbelief. His hand gripped the edge of the car as he fought to remain standing, his whole body seeming to crumble nearly as fast as her fears did.

"Bellamy.." She whispered, and the name felt magical on her tongue- saying it to his face and watching his eyes meeting hers so earnestly in reply.

Suddenly Clarke felt the overwhelming urge to comfort him, to hold him close like he did for her so many times as a child, so she slowly stretched out her fingers to brush along his shoulders.

But to her surprise, he instantly jerked away from her touch. His black eyes hardened on her face as he gazed up at her, and any glimmer of happiness or relief was immediately replaced by a vile bitterness that crept across his face like a poison.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" He hissed, the words slipping out between clenched teeth. " _Dammit Clarke_ \- it only took you _fourteen_ years..."

 

 

  

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I'm so glad I finished this chapter, because it was both wonderful and exhausting to write. Anyways- I really truly hope that all of you enjoy reading this next part. :)
> 
> Again, I can't thank you all enough for your support, you guys are incredible! Honestly, your feedback is both payment and fuel for the countless hours of sleep I lose on these stories- but it's totally worth it! I love hearing from you so much, so if you read this next chapter please let me know what you think about it, as well as how you feel about where the story is going. Your reviews are a God-send!
> 
> Thank you, and please enjoy! :)

Clarke gazed at her step- brother in awe, the blood literally draining from her face as she watched him turn his back on her and storm towards the corner of the garage. He was cursing under his breath, rifling his hands through a sea of rusted tools before yanking out a wrench and going back to his mechanic work as usual.

As if Clarke wasn't even standing there.

It took her several minutes to recover from his words, her mind dwelling on the vicious way in which he spat them at her- the bitterness evident with every breath.

" _God Clarke_ ,  _It only took you fourteen years..."_

It was an accusation, and one bred so purely out of instinct that she wondered if he'd been waiting all these years just to tell her off, to wound her with his contempt.

And judging my the way she felt now, like every pump of her heart was pushing ice through her veins instead of blood, he had obviously succeeded.

 

Clarke stepped forward, her nails digging into the center of her palms as she approached him again, watching him tinker furiously beneath the hood of the car. But his professional composure was crumbling quickly, and he was trying to hide the way his fingers were shaking around the wrench as he twisted at something near the engine.

"Bellamy...you don't understand..." She pleaded, coming closer.

He huffed out in frustration and savagely ripped the fuel line out of the car, and Clarke jumped as he slammed the metal pipe to the concrete floor beside him. Then Bellamy cupped his trembling hands over his face and sank forward over the hood, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He stayed like that for awhile, eyes buried beneath his palms while Clarke waited for him to come back to her- to climb back from whatever dark place he'd crawled himself into. And as she waited for him to say something- _anything_ , she felt the stinging burn of rejection over every inch of her body.

She desperately needed her step-brother to acknowledge her again, or else she might cease to exist entirely. She knew he was the only person left grounding her to this world now, and he had the power to redeem her or destroy her with a single look in her direction.

 

And when Bellamy finally lifted his face from his hands, she could see an entire lifetime of pain hidden behind the darkness in his eyes.

"No..." He whispered. "It's  _you_ that doesn't understand."

Clarke took another step towards him, just happy to hear his voice again. "Then please Bellamy- _tell me._ "

He stared straight ahead, as if he was looking right through her. As if her body was made of nothing but transparency and flesh that served as a gateway to his past, her sudden appearance ripping open a wormhole in his carefully constructed universe.

He sighed, but the sound of it was stilted with agony. "You were all I had Clarke. You were all I  _ever_ had, and you left me behind as if I meant nothing to you. I just woke up one morning and you were gone." His fingers tightened as he gripped the hood of the car. "I never even got a chance to say goodbye. _Apparently_ , you were all too eager to run off with your new family..."

" _No!"_ Clarke shouted, cutting him off. "I didn't even get a chance to..."

But Bellamy raised his hand to silence her, his jaw hardening as he stepped closer. "Don't even try." He hissed. "I thought you would at least answer one of the  _hundreds_ of letters I wrote to you.."

"Letters?" Clarke blinked, racking her brain for such a memory. But ultimately, she had zero recollection of anything resembling a letter. "What letters?"

A dark chuckle rumbled it's way through Bellamy's chest, as if her question insulted him. "Seriously, Clarke?" He stared back at her incredulously, "I wrote you every week for FIVE YEARS. The orphanage sent them to you directly, because I wasn't even allowed to have your fucking address! But the only letter I ever got back from you was on my nineteenth birthday, when I was living on my own- working three jobs to save up money to go searching for you!"

Clarke struggled to breathe now, desperately searching for any memory that matched his accusations. But still, she came up blank. "What...what did I say when I wrote you back?"

Bellamy's gaze lowered to the ground, and he sucked in a deep breath as he forced the next words from his lips. "You asked me to stop writing. You said that you needed to move on with your shiny new life, and that you didn't want anything _reminding_ you-" His deep voice cracked, his eyes filling with hardened regret as they narrowed on hers. " _Dammit Clarke.."_ He breathed _._  "You were the only family I ever had! I loved you so _fucking_ much and you just left me to deal with everything alone! I grew up as the kid whose dead parents were infamous psychopaths and whose sister was too ashamed to even _see_ me. Do you have any idea what that was like!?"

But before Clarke could answer, Bellamy strode forward and took her by the shoulders, his dark eyes searching hers in a raw desperation that made her heart ache in her chest. His next words came out like a plea- like a beseeching prayer that he strained out between gritted teeth- "Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to be left behind by the only person you ever loved?" 

Clarke wanted so badly to scream that-  _yes, yes she did know how it felt to be left behind...._

But her words were muted again as Bellamy reached up to brush away the blonde curls that fell in her eyes, and Clarke's breath caught at the sudden tenderness of his touch, all of his fury and strength seeming to rush out of him the moment his fingers grazed along her cheek.  "All I ever wanted was the chance for you and I to have a normal life, but only if I could have it with _you_." He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers loosening their grip on her arms. "And for some idiotic reason I thought you felt the same way..."

 Clarke's eyes glistened with tears as she stared up at her step-brother, finally hearing the same words she'd always dreamed he'd say-except now she could actually  _hear_ them breathing out between his lips, and it was like a symphony of music to her ears.

"That's all I ever wanted too," She whispered. "I would have given _anything_ to be with you again..."

Bellamy started to back away, shaking his head in frustration. "Then why would you disappear all these years? Why would you even come back at all!? Why would you-"

Clarke ran forward and grabbed his face with her hands, her blue eyes meeting his as she finally screamed out-"Because I thought you were _dead!_ That's why!!"

 

The world around them fell into silence, and every breath between them was suddenly frozen on their lips.

Bellamy's eyes grew wide as he held her gaze. "What..what do you mean... _dead?"_

"That's what I've been trying to tell you Bellamy!" Clarke sensed him backing away again, so she lowered her hands to lace her fingers through his, anchoring him to her. "For the last fourteen years I've been told that mom, dad, and _you_ were all killed in a car accident when I was eleven years old. And I promise you, I never saw a single one of your letters!"

Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to stutter and die off in his throat.

"Trust me.." Clarke's lips curled up in a weak smile. "I think I would remember a letter coming from my dead brother."

A storm of emotion scattered across Bellamy's face, and she could feel him frantically trying to piece it all together in his mind. "But how could you believe that?" He demanded. "You know that mom and dad killed themselves, we were  _both_ there Clarke! You were standing right next to me when it happened!"

Clarke's smile faded, her gaze filling with sorrow as she reached up to cup his cheek again. But Bellamy flinched beneath her touch, as if her fingers could easily burn his skin, and Clarke tried to ignore the sharp pang that stabbed through her chest.

"I could never forget those things willingly, Bellamy. You have to believe me-" She pleaded. "It wasn't my choice! My adopted parents had an experiment performed on me when I was taken from the orphanage. They erased the bad memories from our childhood- our parents' victims, the nightmares- and only left the happier memories behind. I guess they were trying to protect me..." 

Bellamy suddenly ripped away from her, his fingers trembling furiously as he raked them over his face and through his hair. "What? Are you telling me you don't remember  _anything_  about our past together?"

"No Bellamy! It's not like that!" She could feel the tears welling up inside, and one look at the tortured expression on Bellamy's face sent her mind reeling in a million different directions. All of the pain and confusion of the past month came spilling out of her like blood, and Clarke quickly told him the entire story without taking a single breath- spelling out every old memory she kept of them as children and every new nightmare that plagued her now-and rehashing every gruesome detail of her time at the asylum.

And by the time Clarke was finished, she was nearly crumpled on the floor from the weight of the pain, her brain buzzing at the sound of her twisted tale being spoken out loud. It didn't even sound believable to her own ears, and so it came as little surprise that Bellamy seemed just as dazed by her words- staring back at her blankly, his face devoid of any emotion now.

"Bellamy...I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me that it's true."

Bellamy said nothing in return, he just gazed at her with dark, impenetrable eyes. The same eyes that shone for her so lovingly as a child, and now only regarded her with a callous hostility that made her stomach churn. Finally he stepped forward, his jaw tensing and his features hardening into stone. Every muscle in his perfectly sculpted body went rigid with disgust as he stared down at his step-sister, and even before he opened his mouth to speak- Clarke already knew that she had lost him.

"How _dare_ you." He growled. "How dare you come back here after fourteen years of writing me off, only to make up that ridiculous story?"

Clarke shook her head. "I didn't make anything up! You _know_ me Bellamy, and you know that I would never lie to you! You're my brother for godsakes!"

Bellamy huffed out a laugh, folding his arms over his chest. "I don't  _know_ anything, Clarke! It's been fourteen years since I've seen you, and you're nothing more than a stranger to me now. Just some spoiled girl who broke my heart years ago. So you might as well leave the way you came, and go back to pretending I don't exist."

She felt her heart sinking fast, and she desperately clung to the only shred of hope she could reach for.

"But Bellamy....I'm your _sister_. We're still family and were not allowed to give up on each other. So _please_..." She begged. "Don't give up on me now."

Bellamy's fierce gaze faltered for the briefest of moments, and there was a glint of the deepest misery flashing in his eyes. But as quickly as his armor had slipped down, it sprung back up twice as fast- like steely defenses building around a castle's walls. His handsome face turned almost menacing as he leaned closer to deliver his final and most lethal blow-

" _Stop_ calling me your brother. You and I were never even related, and now that both of our parents are dead there's no ties left between us. You and I are officially  _nothing_ to each other Clarke. So if you don't mind- I have to get this car fixed before the realMrs. Weymouth shows up." He turned away from her so abruptly, so coolly that it left her head spinning.

Clarke stared at Bellamy's back, utterly speechless. She had waited all this time to be reunited with her brother again, only to have him reject her in the worst way imaginable. It felt like a dagger had been plunged straight through her heart, and Bellamy's last words to her had twisted that dagger so excruciatingly, her chest literally ached from the impact.

But as she picked herself up and gathered the last shreds of dignity to her name- she felt that old familiar numbness spreading through her heart once more. She summoned the memory of the asylum, and the needle being stabbed into her neck that allowed that beautiful, merciful liquid to pump through her veins and erase any traces of emotion. Clarke let the numbness blanket her, wrapping herself in its folds until she disappeared into the empty, unfeeling shell of the girl she once was. She tipped her chin up and nodded at her step-brother, whose back was still turned as he pretended to sift through his tools again.

Clarke urged her legs to move away as she began to walk towards the exit. Then she looked back over her shoulder at the last second, deciding to address one final thing that weighed on her mind.

"Bellamy." She said.

The muscles in his shoulders tensed at the sound of his name, but still he didn't turn around.

She cleared her throat. "Just for the record, everything I told you was true, so I'm not going to try and convince you again. But Bellamy- I'm not buying your tough guy act for a single second. Because if you really didn't care about me anymore, then why would you name _this_ garage after me all these years later? Unless you hoped that I would somehow find you again..."

Bellamy slowly turned to face her, and Clarke was shocked to see that he suddenly looked as breathless as she felt. His eyes were torn as he opened his mouth- but no words came out from his twitching lips.

"Thought so." Clarke whispered, pleased to sink a dagger of her own into her step-brother' chest. Then she spun on her heel and practically ran towards the door, needing to put as much distance between she and Bellamy as humanly possible.

Because as she bounded back down the dark corridor and burst her way out of the shop, Clarke felt the memories and whispers of a freckle-faced boy begin to die along the edges of her heart.

And she realized in that moment, that the brother she once knew was still to her dead after all.

 

 

 ------------------------------------------------------ 

 

 

 Clarke wandered around town square aimlessly, with no real purpose other than to wallow in the misery of her own thoughts.

As the sun descended in the sky, she watched the vibrancy of the town begin to weaken- the blurs of faces and people all shrinking away into the grey of the evening. It seemed that night had the power to transform Sandusky into a sleepy mid-western village, with the only noise from the occasional car passing on the streets or the quiet lull of the Lake Erie breeze wafting through the air.

She figured she may as well be alone anyways, not like she ever needed people around to begin with. Even after the Griffins had adopted her and raised her as their own, she always managed to keep a careful distance from them emotionally- almost out of pure instinct. She wasn't exactly guarded as a teenager, but she always felt a certain void that lingered in her fancy home and prestigious new parents with their high-income earnings. An adopted mother and father who were none other than a world-class surgeon and respected engineer, leaving her with the definitive push to be impressive herself.

Being told you were the lone survivor of a fatal accident that wiped out your entire family didn't exactly help either, since it had a way of making you feel guilty simply for being  _alive._

But whenever she broached this delicate subject with the Griffins, they quickly swatted it away, changing the subject to something less gloomy. Clarke often found it odd throughout the years that they never let her properly mourn the deaths of her loved ones- especially her brother. They tried so hard to keep her focused on the future instead, to make her grind away at studies and nudge her in the direction of med-school, especially after she'd shown a natural affinity for medicine.

 _"Keep your eyes forward, not behind."_ Her adopted mother, Abigail, had always instructed her. Clarke knew that deep down inside they meant well, but somewhere along the way the unanswered questions of her past began to eat away at her, and even in the midst of family wealth and academic success- Clarke found herself fighting her way through thick clouds of depression far too often.

And whenever she would feel lonely throughout the years, Clarke would conjure up the memories of her lost brother's smile and the sound of his laughter in her ear- but even now those images could no longer bring her solace. Now any memory attached to Bellamy only resulted in a piercing pain being sliced across her heart, leaving her wounded and gasping for air until she could steady herself again, finding the numbness she clung to so ardently.

 

The hours rolled by and Clarke eventually wandered her way to the edge of town, finding a tiny park overlooking the lake. She sat on a wooden bench nestled inside a gazebo, and she stilled her thoughts as she watched the silvery waves rolling in and out of the shore. The sky turned to a darker shade of grey as a misted fog hovered in the air around her- and she closed her eyes to breathe it all in.

Should she go home? Should she try and move on as if nothing had happened? It was probably the most logical thing to do (not to mention it was likely what Bellamy planned to do- considering he could so _easily_ cast her aside.)

But even the logical answers didn't make sense to her now, and for once she allowed herself to sink into the uncertainty of the moment. With a future she no longer looked forward to, and now stripped of the past she once longed to repeat, Clarke embraced the nothingness wholeheartedly. She wondered if she could simply close her eyes and disappear into the night.

 

Just then, the faint sounds of laughter caught her attention, and she leaned forward to watch the tiny figures of children running along the shore. A mother and father were holding hands on the beach in front of her, picking up their daughter and lightly jumping in the waves as she squealed, a little boy running circles around their feet to splash at his sister.

The family playing in the distance brought on a familiar pang of regret for Clarke- like they were somehow mirroring back a window to her own past. She watched the scene with a mixture of fondness and sorrow, wondering if she would ever be able to re-live those rarer, innocent memories without them being tainted by the darker ones. Maybe she could one day block out all the pain and horrors she'd lived, and think back only on the happy times...

But ultimately she knew it was useless. Because some types of pasts were too horrible to be remembered, and were only destined to be forgotten completely.

And then the little boy grabbed his sister's hand on the beach, and Clarke felt her heart break into a million pieces.

Because no matter how much she could suppress her past, she knew she could never quite recover from the loss of the little boy that used to grab her hand too.

 

_Minutes.. turned into hours.. turned into a lifetime passing as she sat alone on the edge of Lake Erie, watching the moon as it rose in the sky- bathing the endless stretches of water in an eerie glow._

 

A light crumple of grass sounded off behind her, and Clarke's gaze snapped to attention.

"Clarke...?"

The deep voice drifted through the fog, and every muscle in Clarke's body went rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut again, telling herself it was only a dream. Her name was only calling out to her from somewhere tucked away in her memories, like her brain was playing a sick joke on her heart.

It couldn't be real.

And then she felt the weight of a body sink on the bench beside her, and her nails curled into her palms.

"Clarke." He spoke again, and the deep cadence of his voice rumbled through the shell of her ear- too close to be imagined.

She slowly opened her eyes, and there he was. A jacket thrown around his broad shoulders, his tousled curls dancing in the wind as he watched her.Those deep, penetrating eyes staring back at her with enough sorrow to match her own.

Bellamy was alive again beside her, and Clarke was almost too afraid to speak- out of fear he might vanish away from her again.

"I knew I'd find you here." He whispered.

Clarke gazed out over the water, the tears welling up in her eyes. "How did you know?"

Bellamy let out a small, defeated laugh. "I guess I always knew you'd like it here. I always thought if I saw you again, I would take you to this place first."

She nodded slowly, still too afraid to look back at him. Still too afraid to grasp that this was actually happening.

But even the sound of his breath so close to her sent tiny chills up her spine, and when he exhaled deeply- she thought she could feel his pulse racing nearly as fast as hers.

Bellamy inched closer to her on the bench, and he sighed. "What you said back there- you were right. I did name the shop after you, in hopes that you would someday find me again. And even though your storysounded a little crazy at first... I realize now that only something that _insane_ would be strong enough to keep us apart."

Clarke's breath froze, she really had to remind herself that she wasn't dreaming now. And as Bellamy spoke the words she so desperately needed to hear, she could feel the warmth rushing back to her limbs, and a new hope clawing it's way through the dark confines of her heart. Against her own will, Clarke found her lips forming a gentle smile in the wind.

"So I guess what I'm asking..." Bellamy pressed his palms together nervously, and as she turned to face him she was finally met with that familiar softness in his eyes- the way he always looked at her when they were younger and the world was a much darker place.  "Since we're family and all-" He breathed. "I'm hoping that it's not too late for me to be forgiven?"

Clarke wiped at the traitorous tears that came rolling down her cheeks, and it took all of her strength not to break down into sobs. "So you're finally admitting that we're family again?"

Bellamy's mouth twitched up into a smirk. "Come on, you know I didn't mean those things I said at the garage. Apparently I can still be an asshole sometimes..." He winked, "But you should be used to that by now, right?" 

Clarke bit back a genuine laugh, because even after all this time she was amazed at how easily Bellamy put her mind at ease. The gravity of their attraction was as powerful as the moon's pull on the tides- the two of them slipping back into the same comfortable rhythm they'd shared as children.

She scooted closer to him now, her elbow softly nudging him in the side to tease him. "Isn't it kind of weird then..that you started to ask me on a date earlier? Like you were actually _hitting_ on your sister?"

Bellamy bit his lip, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment as he glanced away- and she immediately thought it was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

"To be fair Clarke..." He retorted, "I didn't know it was you at first. And technically we're still not related by blood, so it's not like it would have been _incest_."

Clarke practically snorted, her fingers covering her smile as she felt the levity of the moment filling her with peace, making her feel light. "So.." She began. "Does that mean you're still planning on taking me out tonight?"

Bellamy held her gaze intently, and something new glinted in the darkness of his eyes. Then he raised his eyebrow as a devious grin crept across his lips.

"Are you saying you have something better to do, Princess? Because as far as I can tell, the night's still young..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's the third chapter, let me know what you think?! I'd love to hear if you have any reviews or predictions for where the story is headed?!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in full-on zombie mode as I post this now past 2am. I apologize for getting this out late- just a million crazy things going on in life, and thank God for all of you and your support for really grounding me so I can have the courage to keep on writing!
> 
> So let me know what you think of this chapter, at these points in my stories I always need your reviews and feedback more than ever and I really take it all to heart! Otherwise I get lazy and my creative juices just sputter out, lol. I really hope you enjoy this one, and I look forward to hearing what you think and if you have any predictions or ideas about what's coming next!
> 
> Thank you!! :)

Clarke listened as Bellamy walked her through town square, telling her about his life throughout the years they'd been apart. He re-lived for her all the funniest and most embarrassing milestones of his adolescence, as well as the darker, lonelier times that came with the territory of being an orphan since fourteen.

As the gruff, yet wistful tone of her step-brother's voice unraveled for her the mystery of his life, she pieced his words and his memories together in her mind, the way she had grown accustomed to doing with her own memories that had plagued her so viciously in the hospital.

And the picture she painted of Bellamy's existence looked something like this-

 

Bellamy had never been adopted, a fourteen year old boy borne from infamous psychopaths wasn't exactly the pick of the litter at the orphanage.  After Clarke had been taken by the Griffins, he drifted between foster keepers experienced with "troublesome youths," since he spent most of his time acting out or trying to run away. The other kids (and even some of the staff) were terrified of him, some even speculating that  _he too_  must have been a cold- blooded killer and was just as dangerous as his mother and step-father. Just as evil as the sick, twisted people who reared him, not believing for a second that a boy growing up to witness such horrific acts could possibly come out the other side as anything less than demented.

Needless to say Bellamy had become hardened at a fairly young age, constantly paying for the sins of his parents and endlessly running from the demons of his past.

He thought that maybe if he could run fast enough or far enough to leave that life behind him, he could escape the nightmares nipping at his heels and find somewhere he could start again. He dreamed of a place where others wouldn't look at him with fear and revulsion in their eyes- but he never managed to get further than the train station before the cops would capture him and hog-tie him to the ground, dragging him like a prisoner back to the foster homes.

The entire thing made Clarke shudder, especially the image of a younger Bellamy curled up on the icy, concrete floors of the orphanage- his bed often being stripped from him as punishment for running.

 

After Bellamy turned eighteen he finally set out on his own and moved to the city. But as with many vagrant and abandoned souls, he quickly succumbed to a life of petty crime and found his only sense of community in a local gang- mostly homeless and forgotten kids themselves. It wasn't until he turned twenty-one, after serving a 6 month jail sentence for robbery, that he crossed paths with a man named Peter Drake. Mr. Drake was the owner of the auto garage and an unexpectedly genuine soul who managed to find a soft spot in his heart for Bellamy, so he took the troubled boy under his wing and gave him a job as mechanic in his shop- and the rest was history.

Flash forward seven years later and Bellamy had taken ownership of the shop after Mr. Drake retired, and somehow the stigmatized orphan from Circleville and delinquent criminal from Cleveland had finally found a place he could rest his head, a sanctuary from his past in the form of a tiny coastal town known as Sandusky.

 But the memories of his step-sister never ceased to haunt him, and Bellamy still spent most of his lonelier evenings thinking about the little blonde girl with eyes as blue as water, and whose soft fingers he could still feel curled against his palm.

 

And all of this only made Clarke all the more ecstatic to finally be walking beside him now, and she floated on air as the quiet town around her came alive through Bellamy’s words. He pointed out his favorite restaurants and diners (apparently the greasier, the _better_ ), and even a quaint little barber shop on the edge of Main Street that he forced all of his mechanics’ to frequent.

“ _You_  get your hair cut? How often is that…” She reached up to teasingly ruffle her fingers through Bellamy's shaggy tresses. “Like once every five years?

He chuckled, “I guess you’re not used to my hair being like this,  I almost forget how short it used to be.”

Clarke let her ring finger twist around one of his dark curls, watching it loop back into place around his crown. His hair was disorderly for sure, but there was a rugged edge to his look that simply _worked_ for him, and now she couldn’t picture his hair any other way. She let herself admire the cut of his jaw and the shades of stubble that formed along his chin, noticing how his sharper features were perfectly balanced by his boyish freckles.

All in all, Clarke had to admit there was a certain magnetic and almost _artless_ beauty to her step-brother. One that was practically impossible not to stare at.

But for whatever reason...she pushed that thought away quickly.

 

They were trailing along the edge of town now, the moon was high above the waters and the meager light from the stars was enough to carve through the darkness that surrounded them- and as she smiled her lips prickled with the cool droplets of the lake's fog. Clarke couldn't help but feel like she was breathing in the sky, as if the heavens themselves had fallen to the earth so they could walk side-by-side among the clouds.

Clarke was overwhelmingly tempted to just reach up and  _feel_ Bellamy, to drift her fingers across his face and lips and feel his pulse beating beneath her fingertips, proving to her that he was alive.

And she might have done it too, if her breath hadn't caught in her chest when Bellamy stopped her, his hand barely brushing along her forearm when he moved in front of her body.

"Clarke... do you mind if we talk about something else for awhile?"

She blinked, wondering if she'd accidentally crossed a line.

"I...uh- sure? Is something wrong? I'm sorry if I've asked too many questions-"

Bellamy shook his head, "No, it's nothing like that. It's just-" His dark eyes were hesitant as he took a step closer, and there was something careful- tentative even- in the way he moved. "I just never actually thought I'd see you again. And now that you're here and we have our whole lives ahead of us, I just don't want to focus on my past. All that shit about the orphanage and living on the streets happened a lifetime ago, and it feels like none of that even matters anymore."

Clarke drew in a deep breath, "You're right. This is all just a little overwhelming, you know? I mean _God_ Bellamy,  all this time I thought you were _dead_ and-"

Bellamy ducked closer and took her hands in his, and her heart leaped at the feel of his calloused palms smoothing over her delicate skin. She hadn't even realized her fingers had been shaking again until the solid, cool touch of his grip was able to still them completely.

"I'm not dead." He said firmly, his gaze fixing on hers. "I promise you I'm very much alive. And if I ever get my hands on those people who erased your memories and stole you away from me- I swear I could just  _kill_ them-"  
 _  
_

He stopped suddenly, and both of their eyes widened as he let her hands slip from his grasp. Bellamy looked away, like a man haunted with regret.

"You know I didn't mean that." He whispered.

Clarke nodded slowly, and they both fell into a tense, stilted silence as the memories of their murderous parents hung in the air between them.

"I know." She finally murmured. "You don't have to defend yourself to me. I know you're nothing like... _them."_

Bellamy's jaw tensed, and a flicker of pain cut across his dark features. "That's something we should talk about, you know."

"What is?" Clarke asked.

"Our parents. Our _childhood_. All the newer memories you've been dealing with lately."

She could feel a familiar lump building in her throat, choking her- and she shook her head quickly. "No. Not yet. Can we just...maybe save all that for later?"

Bellamy arched his brow, giving her a severe look that was consistent with big brothers everywhere. Something about it filled Clarke's chest with a longing warmth.

"Just not tonight." She sighed. "I at least want to pretend like everything is normal between us while we still can."

Somehow, Bellamy seemed to raise his brow even higher as a taunting smirk crept across his lips. "You honestly think things can ever be  _normal_ between us? After everything we've been through?"

Clarke couldn't help but laugh. "I guess not. I probably made things complicated the moment I showed my face in your shop, didn't I?"

" _Very_."

She thought about that for a moment, and then she reached down to pick up a stone and tossed it off the edge of the pier, watching as the undisturbed waters began to ripple in little swirls. She smiled at the tiny chaos she had created.

"We might as well embrace it then." She stated coolly, adding- "Didn't you promise me a date by the way? Unless that goes against the rules for proper _sibling_ behavior."

Bellamy held her gaze, his dark eyes giving nothing away until he reached down and picked up a rock of his own. He expertly snapped his wrist and sent the heavy rock skipping perfectly across the clear lake, causing a chain of massive ripples that stirred the waters even more violently than before. When he turned to her again, the smile on his face was nothing short of daring.

"Well if a long walk along the pier at night isn't romantic enough for you Princess, then I guess we could settle for getting drunk at the nearest bar."

Clarke perked up instantly. "Now  _that_ is the best idea you've had all night."

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

 The Hook N' Anchor Tavern was a run-down little building located on the far side of town, about a block away from Bellamy's garage. The moment Clarke walked through the doors, she couldn't help but feeling like Alice falling further down the rabbit hole, a prim and proper girl from California who now found herself in a world where everything was turned on it's head. Instead of glossy, high-powered socialites like most of the bars she frequented back home, this place was crawling with unkempt townies and rusty old marine memorabilia.

But to Clarke's surprise, she found herself soaking in the nuances of this strange place, especially since she could never quite _breathe_ in those stuffy old yacht-clubs the Griffins dragged her to (usually to meet with possible suitors- which often included a full spectrum of doctors, attorneys, or stock-brokers that were deemed worthy). But in a place like this, she might actually be able to let loose a little, and she bit her lip with excitement at the thought.

But they weren't two steps in the door before a sea of faces turned on their bar stools, and a group of men in tattered, grease-covered shirts immediately began calling Bellamy's name.

He leaned to whisper in her ear. "I should have known these guys would be here." 

"Are those your mechanics?"

"Most of them... and by the way they're sizing you up, it looks like they're about to start interrogating us any second now."

Clarke swallowed thickly, realizing by the look on Bellamy's face that these people were likely far more than just his employees.

"Hey asshole!!" One younger man with tanned skin and a knitted skull-cap came running forward. "You're late, I thought I texted you like two hours ago man!"

Bellamy's eyes shifted to Clarke. "Yeah sorry, I was....a little busy."

"Yeah I can see that. Your ditching us for girls these days?" The man jabbed his thumb at her. "Not that I can blame you for this one..."

Clarke could feel Bellamy tensing beside her, but before he could reply, another guy came stepping out behind the first one.

"Miller, _dude_. That's not how you talk to a lady." The newcomer flipped his flowing, chestnut hair off his shoulders and flashed her a charming smile. "I'm Finn, and my incredibly rude friend here is Miller."

"So..." Miller leaned closer, his eyes bouncing between she and Bellamy. "How do you two _know_ each other?"

Another man let out a raucous laugh from the bar. "What he _means_ to ask is how long have you and Bellamy been fucking?"

Clarke's jaw dropped open as the whole group of mechanics burst into laughter, but they were immediately silenced by Bellamy's poisonous glare.

"Shut the fuck up." He growled, and the menacing tone of Bellamy's already deep voice seemed to stop every heart in the room. "This is Clarke, and no I am not  _fucking_ her you animals. She's my-" Bellamy looked down at Clarke, and then laced his fingers between hers with a small smile. "She's my _sister_."

You could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that followed. Clarke fidgeted, feeling every drunken, glazed-over pair of eyes settling directly on her now.

"What do you mean _sister_?" A man asked from the back. "You two look nothing alike."

Clarke cleared her throat, deciding this was probably the right moment to cut in. "Actually-" She stepped forward. "Bellamy's mother was married to my father shortly after I was born, so he and I were never blood related. I'm technically his step-sister."

A subtle look of realization seemed to work it's way to both Miller and Finn's eyes, but the same rude, disgusting man in the back called out once more-

"Step-sister eh? So _again_ , how long have you two been fucking?"

Bellamy lunged forward, and it took at least four other guys to hold him back from smashing the man's face in. "Don't you dare talk about her like that!" He hissed, and the offending man finally threw his hands up in surrender, apologizing profusely as he moved to the other side of the bar.

Clarke felt her cheeks flushing a violent shade of red, but seeing Bellamy so quick to protect her-as if running off instinct from their childhood- brought that familiar warmth creeping up around her heart again, and it stirred at feelings deep inside her that she didn't know still existed.

Once everyone had calmed down several of the mechanics patted Bellamy on the back and shoved a beer into his hands, and Bellamy raked his fingers through his messy curls and gave Clarke a lop-sided, apologetic smile.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that." He winced. "That guy is the local asshole, you shouldn't have been forced to hear him airing out his disgusting thoughts like that. It was disrespectful to you."

Clarke stepped closer, smirking as she took the beer from his hands and raised it slowly to her lips. "So I guess I'm disgusting to you, huh?"

Every muscle in Bellamy's body seemed to stiffen at her words. "No! I mean..that's _not_ what I meant..."

She cocked her head to the side. "So you're saying that it _wouldn't_ be disgusting for you and I to be sleeping together?"

Clarke probably only imagined Bellamy's gaze flickering down to her lips and the way they curled around the rim of her glass, and she wondered suddenly if she was taking this joke too far.

"I...don't know how to answer that." He choked out. And then his eyes narrowed on her face, and he raised his brow suspiciously. "Wait a second- are you messing with me right now?"

She bit back a laugh, "Maybe.... _yes."_

Bellamy visibly deflated, letting out a sharp, painful sigh she hadn't realized he'd been holding. " _Very funny_." He quipped.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "What!? Just because we're adults I'm not allowed to tease you anymore?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if thinking that through, before leaning in close enough so that his warm breath skittered along the shell of her ear.

"I think we _both_ know that's not the way you teased me when we were kids." He whispered. "Besides-we also used to bathe together and sleep in the same bed, which are all things I'm pretty sure we couldn't do now."

Something fluttered in Clarke's stomach,  "And why is that, big-brother?"

Bellamy's breath faltered just a little, and he cleared his throat, his voice coming out more hoarse than usual-

"Because wasn't it _you_ that wanted to keep things normal between us? Uncomplicated?"

"But doing those things _was_ normal for us." She teased.

Bellamy looked unimpressed, his mouth drawing into a tight line. "That's because we were kids, Clarke. When we bathed together the only thing we worried about was whether or not we would catch cooties."

Clarke stepped closer, unsure of why the next question arose in her mind- or even why she would wonder such a thing- but the words came tumbling from her lips anyways-

"And what exactly would you _worry_ about now?"

Something darker flashed in Bellamy's eyes, and the artful grin that tugged at his lips was barely perceptible, but it still had the power to root her to the ground completely. He didn't answer, he didn't need to- instead his hand simply found the small of Clarke's back as he gently pulled her in the direction of the bar.

 

Somewhere about twenty feet away, Miller and Finn were leaning casually against an old juke box, their eyes glued on every second of the reunion playing out before them.

"This isn't good." Miller groaned. "This isn't good at all. That chick is just going to rip his heart out of his chest... _again."_

Finn nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing on the tiny blonde that stood laughing beside Bellamy. He watched as she playfully shoved him in the shoulder, both of them smiling like idiots- completely lost in their own world.

"All these years he's fucking furious at her!" Miller scoffed. "How many times has he gotten drunk and thrown her picture across his office- shattering it to fucking pieces! And now? Now she just shows up and he instantly _forgives_ her, I mean look at him! He's following her around like a fucking puppy dog!"

Finn sighed, swallowing down the rest of his whiskey. "Come on man, she's the only family he has. He never stopped loving her, not to mention you know  _damn_ well he always buys a new frame for that picture, like, immediately after he breaks it. And it's sitting right there on his desk again the next morning."

Miller huffed, but he couldn't ignore the honesty in his friend's words. Together they lifted their glasses and clanked them in a silent toast- hoping that this time around the elusive step-sister wouldn't destroy their best friend's life all over again.

 

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Clarke felt the crisp, poignant burn of the alcohol sliding it's way down her throat. She had always been a bit of a lightweight-especially after not drinking for so long- and she could already feel the flush of blood in her cheeks as the whiskey dampened her senses.

She and Bellamy were sitting in a tucked away corner of the bar, a proud assembly- line of empty beer and liquor glasses cluttering the table between them. Clarke tried not to show how taken she was in this moment- unable to tear her eyes away from the man sitting across from her, the way the dim lighting of the room carved a symphony of shadows across Bellamy's features-intensifying his dark eyes and sharpening the cut of his cheekbones. She smiled at the way his curls fell wild and disheveled over his brows, perfectly matching the lop-sided grin that now smeared across his face. He seemed just as taken with her being there too- his eyes silently assessing her, and every time she asked him a question he would hold her gaze a moment too long before answering.

At some point in the night, however, their conversation had taken an interesting turn-

"You _really_ want to know?" Clarke asked.

"I don't _want_ to know" Bellamy clarified. "I  _have_ to know. I feel like it's my job to know everything about you Clarke, and now I'm more than a decade behind. So  _yes_ _,_ tell me."

Clarke swirled her finger in her vodka tonic, her chin tilting up in a challenge. "Fine then. My first time was when I was 17 years old, it was the summer before senior year when I started flirting with a boy that I met at my parents' yacht club-"

"You mean your  _adopted_ parents'." He quickly corrected.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course that's what I meant. Anyways, his name was Chip Evans and he was my first... _you know._ "

Bellamy leaned back in his chair as his fingers rapped sharply on the table in front of him. " _Chip?"_ He spit out, disgusted, as if the name itself wasn't worthy of his voice. "You mean to tell me that all my years of lecturing to you about boys...you end up losing your virginity to some loser named  _Chip?_ At a yacht-club, nonetheless!" He scoffed and tossed back another shot of whiskey, as if the alcohol could somehow wash away the image of her having sex with the kind of boy whose parents owned yachts.

"What?" Clarke batted her eyes innocently. "He was  _nice._ " She stole a quick glance around the room before leaning closer to whisper- "We did it behind the members-only pool house, and it lasted all of two minutes before the chambermaid walked in on us."

Bellamy just glared at her, clearly not amused.

Clarke literally had to bite down on her knuckles to keep herself from laughing, she wasn't sure what she found more ridiculous, the story itself or the look of absolute fury on her step-brother's face.

"Tell me you're joking." He demanded, but Clarke only winced and shook her head.

"Nope, sorry. That's how your little sister was.... _de-flowered_."

Bellamy grimaced, before slumping down in his seat with an exaggerated sigh. "I failed you, didn't I? I'm pretty sure I didn't raise you to be the kind of girl who sleeps with snot-nosed little _pricks_ behind pool-houses."

Clarke drew back, horrfied at his words. She immediately swiped up her glass of tonic and threw it's contents directly in Bellamy's face, watching with a satisfied smirk as he shot up from his seat.

"What the hell _Clarke!"_ He growled.

The clear burn of the liquid barely missed his face by an inch and splashed down into tiny, fizzing pools in the folds of his leather jacket. Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and letting it fall into a heap on the ground. He sank back into his seat with wet, dripping curls sticking to his forehead, and Clarke half expected him to start yelling at her, or at least give her that fierce, level glare he seemed so intent on giving anyone who dared cross him.

But she should have known he'd be different with her, because one look at Clarke's pouting expression managed to lure an adoring, defeated smile from Bellamy's lips. And just like that- the hardened mask he donned so well crumpled and gave way to the freckle-faced boy she once knew.

They both burst out into uncontrollable laughter then, and Bellamy kicked up his muddy boots and crossed his legs on the table- shaking the water free from his curls like a dog.

"So I guess I deserved that." He admitted.

Clarke huffed. "I'll have you know, I was just a stupid, confused teenager when I slept with that boy. But don't think I ever _once_ forgot anything that you taught me when I was little. Trust me- I've made much better decisions with my love life since then."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Bellamy enough to ease the last bit of tension from his shoulders, and it was then that Clarke noticed the thin fabric of his shirt and the way it clung around his muscular body. The neckline plunged low enough to reveal a slice of tan skin along his chest- and Clarke felt a beat of panic when she realized she was staring for too long. Her gaze lifted, and Bellamy's eyes were on her now, a curious expression on his face. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he was abruptly cut-off by the loud cackling of three women in the corner with motorcycle jackets and lipstick stains on their teeth. They'd been a terribly drunk and rowdy bunch all night, giving way to heinous bouts of laughter at the slightest provocation.

But just watching them made Clarke breathe a little easier, knowing that she was actually in a place where people felt free to be themselves. Not a room full of hushed rumors and plastic smiles, or the daunting sounds of vacuous, hollow laughter floating through expensive parties. Not always having to look over your shoulder to see who's watching, always checking your posture and plumping your lips- keeping up with the fast crowds of sparkling California socialites.

She felt a tension leaving her body that she never really knew existed until that very moment.

"It's a different world out here." Bellamy noticed, catching on to the wistful look in Clarke's eyes.

She drew in a heavy breath, letting her chest fall in a pitiful sigh."This place is nothing like Los Angeles." She said. "Everybody looks alike back home. Everybody drives the same cars and wears the same designer brands, and there's absolutely not a single bit of authenticity in any of it. Not like here, though." She cocked her head to observe them more closely. "The people here seem happier, more genuine I think."

Bellamy's mouth slid up at the corners. "This place looks good on you. I think you should stay."

"Stay?" Clarke blinked. "You mean never go back home?"

Bellamy leaned forward, his dark eyes holding the same question she already had burning in her heart.

"And where exactly is _home_ , Clarke?"

She shivered at his words, like a thousand tiny knives prickling at her skin. She could hardly look him in the eyes now, but still she could feel the weight of his gaze pressing into her.

"Is it with the Griffins in California?" He asked, and she swore he was holding his breath. "Or is it with _me_?"

Clarke froze on the spot, like the very first time the memories of her past first bombarded into her brain. Fear, confusion, happiness- every emotion buzzed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to tune it all out, so all that was left to hear was the beating of her own conflicted heart.

After a torturous minute, she opened her eyes and whispered. "I don't know yet."

There was a palpable tension in the air as Bellamy's features seemed to glaze over, and more than ever she wished she could know what he was thinking in that moment. He nodded carefully, clearing his throat and finally resigning to a forced, aching smile that spread across his face.

"It's okay." He said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that echoed through her veins. "You don't have to decide now. I'm just happy you're here tonight."

Clarke smiled back, seizing this opportunity to change course. 

"Well I was hoping that you wouldn't mind me hanging around tomorrow too? I wanted to see if..." She trailed off, before gathering the courage to continue. "I wanted to see if maybe you and I could go to Circleville tomorrow, and maybe drive by our old house?"

Bellamy visibly tensed and drew backwards, looking completely derailed.  "Why would you want to go back _there_?"

She drew her lip between her teeth, not exactly sure why the insanely gruesome idea of re-visiting the home of their murderous parents would even spring to her brain at a moment like this. But somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that she needed closure on that part of her life, just as much as she needed to find Bellamy.

"I can't explain it." She whispered. "It's like I have all these memories that have been stuffed inside me, yet part of me feels too detached from them to ever truly accept that they're real. And I'm afraid if I never piece the two halves of my brain back together, I'll always be haunted by them."

Bellamy was silent, but she could still sense the alarm in his eyes, and she knew exactly what that meant. It meant that willingly returning to the scene of their nightmare would be like opening up a Pandora's Box for _both_ of them, not just her.

Bellamy steeled himself, his nostrils slightly flaring as he finally responded- "If following you back into hell is all it takes to save you, then count me in."

Clarke's entire body flooded with a strange relief, one that still left her feeling a little uneasy around the edges.

"Thank you." She reached across the table to take his hand. "You have no idea what this means to me. Especially since there's a couple things I still need to remember-"

" _Clarke_." He interrupted hoarsely. "Are you sure you really need to remember  _more?"_  Isn't the rest of it painful enough? I mean fuck, I've had years to process all the horrible shit from our lives. But you're just re-living it now, so maybe it's not a good idea to recount every little detail of what our parents' did.."

Clarke felt herself going rigid all over, a harsh new realization dawning in her heart.

"My God Bellamy. I still don't remember the day they killed themselves!? I don't even remember how that happened- how did the police even catch them? Of all the memories I've kept of us over the years and all the newer ones I've learned over the past month- for whatever reason that's the only day that _still_ comes up blank for me." She leaned closer, her eyes suddenly crazed. "Can you tell me what happened?  _Please?"_

Something changed in Bellamy then, and the gravity of the moment shifted in her step-brother's eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw as his lips fell parted in disbelief.

"It was me..." Bellamy strained out, confused. " _I'm_ the one who ratted them out to the police. I told them everything, and when the cops surrounded the house they shot themselves with rifles."

Clarke stiffened again, trying to breathe around the massive lump forming in her throat. Apparently her step-brother had been the ultimate savior for her after all, all the way until the very end.

When she spoke again, her voice was shakier than ever. "We were only kids Bellamy. You were just as terrified of them as I was...so what made you finally turn them in?"

There was a nearly perceptible shudder that ran through Bellamy's body. "You really don't remember anything from that day?" He squeezed her hand tighter, his grip turning vice-like and desperate. " _Anything_?"

Clarke shook her head in a daze. "Nothing."

At that, a new kind of darkness settled into his gaze- penetrating her from across the table. But as Bellamy looked her in the eyes, she had the distinct and unnerving suspicion that he was seeing something else entirely.

He looked like a man haunted.

"They hurt you." He whispered roughly, as if the words alone scorched the inside of his throat. "My mother chained you up in the basement that day, beating you senseless as they locked me in my room. It was the only time they'd done anything like that to you...and I...I just couldn't let that happen again. So I called the cops, and I was fucking  _overjoyed_ when those bastards blew their brains out."

Clarke could barely speak now, and somewhere deep in her soul she could hear her own screams coming closer- calling to her from inside a tunnel tucked far away in her mind.

" _But why?"_ She whimpered. "Why would they do that to me?"

The darkness eclipsed Bellamy's eyes completely, and his strong, calloused hand was trembling in hers.

"It was my fault." He confessed. "It was your eleventh birthday, and I wanted to do something special. So we snuck out in the middle of the night again.."

Clarke gasped, her vision flashing back to she and Bellamy dancing beneath the moonlight in a field of wildflowers. " _The field._ " She whispered. "I remember you took me there every year for my birthday... I loved it there more than anything but I was always afraid we'd get caught-"

"We _did_." Bellamy uttered, and there was a certain hollowness in his voice. "That's the time we finally got caught."

Clarke shook her head. "I don't understand? They chained me up and beat me just because they discovered us dancing in the field?"

Bellamy's grip tightened on her fingers, as if she might slip away at any moment. _"It was my fault Princess_..." He repeated, his dark eyes tinged with an indescribable pain as they bore desperately into hers. "They nearly _killed_ you because the day they found us in the field..."

He paused, the words cracking in his throat.

"-They saw me kissing you."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to leave a review ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!! So because I appreciate all of you amazing readers, I'm going to be honest with you. Getting the time to sit down and write the last several weeks has been exceedingly difficult since I am dealing with a terminally-ill father whose been in and out of the hospital lately, so that's a big reason why you haven't heard from me in awhile- but I want you all to know that I am completely committed to finishing my stories, and I couldn't be more honored and touched by all of the amazing reviews I've gotten this entire time, you amazing people give me so much more courage and support to keep writing! Honestly, you touch my life in ways you'll never know! And right now that's big, because in my life reading is a huge escape for me.
> 
> So please read on and I hope you enjoy this new chapter! It's very long and probably gets more intense the further it goes, so please let me know how you like it?! Your reviews are like oxygen to me, and I really want to see what you think of the story at this point!!
> 
> Thank you for everything, enjoy :)

Clarke sat motionless across from Bellamy, her blue eyes wide and glittering with confusion in the dim light of the bar. She blinked once, twice, and then her mouth opened to speak, but she only ended up swallowing her words back down.

Bellamy was watching his step-sister intently, shifting under the weight of her gaze.

"Say something Clarke. Please...."

She hadn't even realized that her fingers had subconsciously curled around her glass, her knuckles nearly white and tremoring. In a moment of sheer desperation, she lifted the glass to her lips and drained the last of her vodka tonic, and the piercing sound it made when the glass came crashing back on the table made them both jump in their seats.

As far as Clarke was concerned, she had two things to process here:

The first- Their parents were far more sadistic than she could have ever imagined _(what kind of monsters chained and beat their own daughter??)_

The second- (and somehow the more surprising revelation)- was that eleven years ago on that fateful day, a dark series of events had first unfolded when her own step-brother had actually  _kissed_  her.

 

Clarke shook her head again, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Bellamy?" She squeaked out. "You mean to tell me that you and I were-"

"Kissing." He whispered, his voice sounding hoarse as he pressed his lips into a hard line. "This whole time I assumed you remembered, I had no idea that you still had that day blacked out."

 

Without any warning, Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and tried to summon the lost memory on her own. She tried to call forth the feeling of wild flowers grazing at her ankles and the touch of Bellamy's young lips pressed against hers.

But it was pointless, because all she could see was the endless dark space behind her eyelids, and all she could feel was the hiss and murmur of her other memories taunting her...ridiculing her from somewhere deep inside.

Her heart sank in her chest, because her past was still not her own. After all the pain and suffering she'd endured to remember her childhood so vividly, that monumental day that veered her entire life off course was still lost to her. It was the day her parents had killed themselves, and the day she'd nearly had her own life taken by their hands.

It was also the day she'd had her very first kiss.

 

She choked back a bitter laugh. Honestly, she would rather be plagued with a hundred more terrifying memories than to have that one single day stolen from her mind completely. 

 

Her fingers suddenly felt cold, and it reminded her to open her eyes again. But when she did, she was surprised to see that at some point she had unknowingly pulled her fingers away from Bellamy's grasp, and she now found him staring down into his calloused, empty palm- looking more hopeless than any man she'd ever seen.

"I still don't understand Bellamy, you were my brother."

She didn't mean for her voice to sound so small. 

"Why would you ever kiss me?" She asked.

Bellamy's dark, hollow gaze moved from his hand, slowly trailing up Clarke's body in a way that made her shudder before finally fixing on her eyes.

"Because you asked me to." 

She blinked. "I did?"

Bellamy's jaw tensed, and she couldn't help but sense that he was more than a little insulted. "Yes, Clarke. You really think I would have done it otherwise?"

"But why would I ask you to kiss me? I was only eleven..."

He scoffed at her. "And I was only fourteen, don't make me out to be some pervert, Princess."

"I didn't say that."

"But you  _implied_  it."

"Don't put words in my mouth!" She snapped, and Bellamy glared at her as he folded arms against his chest. 

They sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity, Bellamy's dark eyes tracing her face in a way she didn't quite understand, but it was making her dig her fingernails deep into her palms. Then he shifted his gaze away from Clarke, as if he suddenly couldn't stand to look at her, and that simple act of rejection ignited the tiniest rush of panic that clawed it's way into her chest. There was something so eerie about the way he could shut himself down so easily, how he could be so alive and engaged with her in one moment, and then so aloof the next.

Bellamy let out a heavy sigh, and Clarke's eyes were drawn to a tiny wrinkle deepening between his brows. But finally, he resigned to telling the story-

"You'd been asking me all day what it felt like to kiss somebody." He said, and his eyes still refused to meet hers. "The other girls in school were bragging about kissing boys, and they teased you because you'd never done it."

His words instantly sparked a memory of that very feeling, a feeling of worthlessness that she carried with her in her younger years- and it sent a familiar chill along her spine.

As a child she was never the pretty one or the popular one, and more often than not she was left feeling like an isolated freak whose own parents didn't love her enough to fight back their own demons. All she ever wanted was to feel normal, so on some level, wanting to kiss a boy might have been her way of chasing down that dream.

"We snuck out in the middle of the night again, just like we did every year on your birthday." He continued, "I was teaching you to dance in that field with the flowers in it,  _our field_ , until dawn. You had a school mixer coming up and you were afraid the other kids would laugh at you if you didn't know how to dance."

An image of the field flashed behind Clarke's eyes again, and it was so real that she could literally smell the lilacs and feel the stillness in the lake as it waded around her ankles.

"You kept talking about wanting to kiss some boy in your class that you had a crush on, I think his name was-"

_"Matthew._ " She said quickly, and Bellamy's eyes froze on her face.

"You remember?" He breathed.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she nodded. "I remember us dancing in the flowers, I actually always remembered that part. It was my favorite memory of us."

Bellamy held her gaze, and the faintest of smiles ghosted over his lips before he quickly looked away again. "Nice of the doctors to let you keep that one." He huffed. "Do you remember anything else?"

She shook her head sadly.

"Well you already know how the story ends, Clarke." He sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed the last vial of liquor, tipping it back into his mouth. "You asked me to teach you how to kiss, so I did- simple as that. It was pretty quick, and it was just that one time, too. I promise you it was innocent."

Clarke set her jaw, and she couldn't explain the gnawing sensation in her stomach that something wasn't right.

"Innocent...." She repeated, almost to herself. "Innocent enough that our parents chained me up and nearly  _killed_  me because of it?"

Bellamy's eyes flew back to hers, his whole body stiffening at her words as if they had cut him physically. He stared at her hard, his gaze darkening as his lower lip just barely trembled-and it was just enough for Clarke to feel an immediate pang of guilt.

She quickly reached out to take his hand in hers, wishing with all her might that she could go back in time and take back such an awful, hateful thing to say to a boy who'd only meant to help her. But it was too late. She could see Bellamy turning to stone right before her eyes, pulling away from her and collapsing inward again- and the hard lines of his handsome face grew almost frightening as he scowled at her.

"I'm getting another drink." Was all he said. He ripped his hand away and nearly leaped from his chair, and in an instant he was gone- lost in the crowd of wayward drunks.

 

She sat staring blankly at his empty seat, her heart lodged in her throat.  _What had she done?_

 

It wasn't more than thirty seconds later, when Clarke's face was buried in her palms, that she heard a familiar voice speak her name. She looked up to see one of the mechanics from earlier smiling down at her. His eyes were careful as he tucked a dangling strand of chestnut hair behind his ear.

"It's Clarke, right?" Finn reached forward and held out his hand. "You look like your having a rough night. Mind if I buy you a drink?"

Clarke glanced warily around his shoulder, her eyes searching for any trace of Bellamy.

"I think he left." He leaned over to block her view. "He has a habit of taking off like that, especially when things get a little... _heated._  It's happened plenty types with Bellamy and I, except usually he punches me in the face first, and  _then_  he storms out." Finn chuckled, and Clarke's face was suddenly aflame with embarrassment.

"I guess you heard us arguing then..." She whispered.

"Let's just say it's a small town and an even smaller bar, so not much goes unnoticed here." Finn gave her a kind of wry smile and beckoned her with hand. "Come on, let's get you another drink."

Clarke sighed and got to her feet. "I really don't think I should drink anymore, but thanks for the offer." She started walking towards the door, but Finn caught her by the elbow.

"How about a dance then?"

Clarke hesitated, and then she found herself gazing around the noisy bar once more, some part of her still hoping that she would see a flash of black curls moving through the crowd. She already missed him so terribly, and he had barely been gone for more than five minutes.

She sighed again,  _What the hell? It's not like she had anywhere else to be..._

 

Finn grinned and led her to a small patch of wooden floorboards, a kind of make-shift dance floor where several inebriated men and women were hanging on each other for balance, their lush bodies swaying in time with the slow tempo of the music from the juke box.

He lightly circled his arms around her waist, and Clarke noticed the faint smell of oil and gasoline that smudged along his t-shirt and forearms- the hallmarks of a mechanic. The odor intruded on her brain, reminding her of when she first walked into Bellamy's shop earlier that day, and suddenly she felt like she was going to cry.

_How could she say those things to him?_

 

"You seem a little shaken." Finn noticed, as he started to move them side to side with the rhythm of some nineties song that Clarke barely recognized.

"We just had a fight is all." She mumbled.

"Well that's what brothers and sisters do, isn't it? Fight?"

Her eyes met his, and a tiny glistening tear rolled it's way down her cheek. "I guess so." She sniffed, wiping the tear away.

Finn seemed nice enough, she thought. He was obviously trying to distract her or make her feel better, and she had to admit that even the loose touch of his arms around her body felt the slightest bit comforting- if only a little foreign. She let herself smile softly back at him, admiring the way his gentler, more honey-browned eyes seemed to watch her with some kind of sparkling amusement.

"Don't worry about him." He said. "He should know better than to leave a pretty girl like you alone in a bar." Finn leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "A guy like me might come around and try to steal you away." He pulled back and winked at her, and Clarke couldn't help but laugh.

"But seriously." He straightened up a bit, his smile slowly fading. "Bellamy has been through a lot in his life, Clarke. As I'm sure you realize. Miller and I have worked with him for five years, and he's still a mystery even to us."

The music changed to another slower acoustic song, and Clarke subconsciously pulled back a little as Finn's fingers tightened around her waist.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

Finn's gentle faced turned surprisingly grim in a matter of seconds. "I mean there's a lot of darkness in Bellamy, and sometimes Miller and I feel like he's balancing on a knife's edge, you know? And honestly, I think a lot of it has to do with _you_."

"Me?" Clarke blinked. "Why me?"

"Because I know who your parents were Clarke, it's not much of a secret around here that the two of you had a screwed up childhood." His fingers tightened on her waist a little more and before she realized it he was drawing her closer, keeping his voice low. "And I know that of all the things in his past that he wished he could forget, Bellamy wanted to forget  _you_  most of all."

At that, Clarke's throat went completely dry.

"Wh-what? That can't be, he loved me.."

"He never  _stopped_  loving you." Finn said firmly. "That's the problem. But he went through more hell feeling abandoned by you in the last fourteen years, than he ever did watching your parents slaughter all those people. And now that you're back, you could send him right over the edge again."

"What are you trying to say?" 

They were no longer dancing, but Finn stayed pressed against her, his careful eyes trying to impress upon her the gravity of the situation.

"What I'm saying is that you could be dangerous for him. He sees you as his sister, the only family he's got in this world, and unless you plan on uprooting your whole life to be here with him- then you should probably keep as much distance between you two as you can." Finn glanced around the room again, sighing. "Honestly Clarke... what good can come from this anyway? The two of you can never move past the horrible place you came from if you're always reminding each other of it, keeping your nightmares alive. It's just a recipe for disaster, and I think it'd be healthier for the two of you to just stay apart. People who come from a family like yours could be toxic for each other.... or maybe even bring out the  _worst,_ if you know what I mean."

 

His words were heavy with implication. And somewhere in the back of her brain, the words-  _"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree...."_  reverberated through her heart.

 

Clarke stared back at Finn in horror, her mouth opening to speak, but nothing but a mass of unintelligible stutters erupted from her lips. She was speechless, and even though she felt like slapping this man square across the face, she knew that deep down inside he was only looking out for his friend.

And my God..what if he was right? What if she really did destroy Bellamy's life even more than her parent's had? What if she could do that again? Her stomach lurched wickedly at the thought.

Maybe then it was a good thing that she insulted him earlier, and gotten Bellamy to hate her before he became too attached to her the second time around...

 

"You may not have to worry." She whispered feebly under her breath. "I may have already driven him away."

Finn pressed his lips together and gave her a solemn nod. "Then maybe it's for the best. You can stay at my place tonight, and I can drive you back to the airport in the morning. No harm, no foul."

Clarke mulled this over, and even though almost every fiber of her being was screaming at her to stay in Sandusky, to find Bellamy and beg him to forgive her- a small part of her wanted just as badly to jump on that plane in the morning and never look back. If Finn was right, then she had every reason to fear that they were just as capable of hurting each other now as they ever were. Just re-living each other's nightmares over and over until one of them snapped.

They were the children of monsters, after all. Maybe they didn't deserve each other, or else they might risk bringing out some darkness that could be lurking beneath the surface of their skin, some familial genetic tendency towards madness that could only be ignited in each other's presence.

Just like their parents had done for each other.

The thought made her entire body bristle in an icy, relentless shiver. Maybe she was dangerous for him, and maybe he was dangerous for her too.

 

"You might have a point..." Clarke murmured, and even she could hear the reluctance in her voice.

Finn's ghastly charming smile returned a second later, and for a moment he seemed almost pleased with himself. She couldn't help but feel a little disturbed by the way he looked now, like some smarmy thief who was trying his best to look saintly- his voice all smooth and honey-toned again.

He flipped his long, playboy hair behind his shoulders."Come on then beautiful, let's head over to my place, shall we?"

She swallowed hard and nodded, seeing no other way out now. She could feel the energy and the hope begin to drain from her body as he started to lead her off the dance floor. He held tightly to her wrist as they meandered through the dense crowd of people, and in that instant Clarke almost resented the way he'd been touching her- Finn's touch felt so cold and alien to her, almost like his words did. She wasn't really sure what this guy had planned for their sleeping arrangements tonight, but she had a feeling she might not be all that comfortable with it...

Suddenly Finn came to an abrupt halt and Clarke practically crashed into him.

 

"What the  _fuck_ do you think you're doing Collins?" 

 

Clarke would recognize that unnervingly deep voice anywhere, and her heart seemed to kick-start into over drive. Her eyes flew up to see Bellamy standing there in front of them, his legs planted firmly to the ground and his muscular arms folded across his chest. Bellamy's suspicious gaze dropped to the way Finn's fingers were curled around Clarke's wrist- and a muscle twitched furiously in his jaw.

"Bel-Bellamy?" Finn stammered, obviously shaken. "What are you doing here? I thought you left?"

"Nice try." He stepped closer, "And where the fuck do you think you're taking  _my_ little sister? Back to your place?"

Finn quickly released Clarke's arm and stepped away. "She didn't think you were coming back, so I offered for her to come stay with me for the night. I wasn't trying anything I swear."

Bellamy snorted, his eyes narrowing on Finn so menacingly that it sent a ripple of fear through Clarke.

"You need to leave." He hissed. "I mean it Collins,  _now._ "

Finn's gaze met hers in a moment of hesitation, and then his head bowed towards the floor as he retreated away from them.

 

Relief flooded Clarke's body, and the fears that Finn had planted in her mind began to fade into the background as Bellamy turned to her. And even just the feeling of his dark eyes on hers once again made her feel alive, and she could feel the oxygen pumping through her veins.

For some reason, that sensation felt more dangerous than anything else, and she was faintly reminded of Finns words again. But her heart sank when she saw Bellamy's face, his expression torn between angry and wounded as he dragged his fingers back through his disheveled dark curls, stepping closer. 

"Were you really about to go home with him?" He asked, and the question felt loaded.

 "I was." Clarke flushed. "But it wasn't to have sex or anything, I just didn't know where else I could stay..."

Bellamy's brows furrowed, and she had the feeling he was about to scold her like some errant child. "You really thought I was going to leave you here? Alone?"

She took a moment, deciding.

"Yes." She finally whispered, and her answer made Bellamy shut his eyes and sigh, and the sound of it was excruciating.

"I thought you knew me better than that." He said quietly.

They held each other's gaze again, and she knew in that instant that they could both feel the cold weight of the fourteen years that had passed between them. It was only just now occurring to her that in some ways, her step-brother was little more than a stranger to her.

"No." She breathed. "I guess I really don't.

 Clarke might have been able to understand the look that flickered across Bellamy's face then, if only he hadn't torn his eyes away so quickly. He nodded his head, defeated.

 "Come on Clarke, I think it's time we left."

 

\-----------------------------------------....

 

Bellamy lived in an old brick apartment building that was barely a block away from his auto garage, on a sleepier end of town that sat nearly a hundred yards off the shore of Lake Erie. The apartment itself wasn't anything spectacular, very humble in size but with cleanly painted grey walls and a kitchen that he had remodeled by hand. Clarke noticed the lack of decorations first, having come from a plush LA brownstone where every crevice was dripping with granite fireplaces and Tiffany-style chandeliers- this place was definitely a departure. But there was a crisp and easy feel to the air in his living room, and somehow the simplicity of his living quarters appealed to her.

She didn't tell him this of course, because they had barely spoken a word since they'd left the bar. And even now as they stood silently in his dark apartment, doing everything they could not to look each other in the eyes, the distance between them only seemed to grow further still.

Bellamy buried his hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet.

"So umm... do you have any pajamas or anything?"

Clarke shook her head. "When I went to the hospital I wasn't exactly planning on making a trip afterwards." She motioned to her clothes. "This is all I have."

Bellamy disappeared around the corner, emerging from the hallway a moment later with a grey t-shirt crumpled up in his hands.

"Here." He said, handing her the tiny pile. "That's my old work shirt, it's probably the longest one I have. And there's some sweatpants in there too, the nights around here can get pretty cold."

This was the most they'd said to each other in the past hour, and their voices sounded strange against the backdrop of the quiet apartment.

"Thanks." She whispered. I'll just sleep out here on the couch."

"No need. I'll take the couch, the bedroom's a lot warmer, trust me."

She pressed her fingers to bridge of her nose, she was far too exhausted mentally and physically to argue about this. She didn't need his chivalry when she was perfectly fine sleeping on a couch, and besides, she hated being treated like some delicate flower.

"Bellamy, stop. I like couches, okay? I sleep on mine at home all the time."

His nostrils flared when she mentioned the word  _home_ , as if it insulted him in some way. "Sorry I don't have all the luxuries of LA, Princess. I hope you can bare it for the time being."

She grit her teeth together. "Don't be an asshole, I just told you the couch was fine. Besides, I only have to "bare" it for one night, so I think I'll survive."

Bellamy looked at her, suddenly confused. "What? You mean your leaving _tomorrow_?"

 

Clarke had only just now come to the conclusion that leaving was the best option for both of them. The growing hostility between them over the last two hours was painful enough as it was, and once again she couldn't help but wonder if Finn was right about them.

Maybe they really did only bring out the worst in each other...

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, steeling herself against the way he was looking at her now- his dark eyes colder than she'd ever seen them.

Bellamy pressed his lips together and nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. Then he reached behind him almost mechanically, ripping a pillow and blanket off the ottoman and tossing it on the couch in front of her.

"Well then, better get some sleep. I wouldn't want to make your stay here feel any longer than it has to be."

Clarke bristled at the obvious bitterness in his tone, but before she could shoot back some clever insult he had already disappeared down the hallway, her heart stopping at the sound of his bedroom door slamming behind him.

 

She stood for a moment alone in the dark living room, staring at the tiny sliver of moonlight that trickled in through the windowpanes beside her. She could finally feel the full weight of her despair bearing down on her, squeezing the air from her lungs, and it took every ounce of strength she had not to crumble to the floor.

How did the mood between them shift so quickly? One minute they were laughing and savoring every moment together- the next they could barely stand to be in the same room. But in the back of her mind, she knew she could pinpoint the very moment it all had soured- when he told her about their kiss. A small, innocent kiss between children that had nearly cost Clarke her life, and had spawned fourteen years of loneliness and orphaned abandonment. Fourteen years of trying to forget that the other had ever existed.

Maybe it was all her fault for trying to disrupt that delicate balance in the first place, and to think that finding each other would bring some kind of meaning to their lonely lives.

 

There was a deep pain building in her chest now, like a blade was being twisted right through her heart. 

She removed her clothes with trembling fingers and numbly slipped Bellamy's shirt over her head, not even bothering with the pants as she burrowed herself under the blankets on the couch. She swallowed back her tears and allowed her body to succumb to the loss of her brother once more. As if losing him the first time hadn't been enough...

 

 

_Clarke opens her eyes and she is standing on the edge of a towering cliff. But it only feels like a cliff, because a giant rectangular hole has been dug into the earth and the wooden casket laying at the bottom may as well be a million miles away. She drops to her knees and digs her fingers into the wet, mushy ground as she crawls towards the edge of the hole, her head hanging over as she screams Bellamy's name over and over._

_"Bellamy! Can you hear me? Come back to me, please!" But it's pointless because all that echoes back to her is her own voice._

_She hears the mournful sighs of the Griffins behind her, her mother donning a designer black dress and dabbing gently at pretend tears with a silken hanky._

_"So sad.." She keeps saying. "Such a shame to lose them so young, isn't it?"_

_Clarke turns back around and screams Bellamy's name once again, more desperately this time. She swears the casket is sinking further away, being swallowed up by the earth as she stretches her fingers towards it. Rain is falling now all around her, and her blonde curls stick to her eyes and her face as she crumples into a tiny ball, Bellamy's name chanting on her lips._

_"I'm fucking dead Princess, your wasting your time."_

_Clarke's head snaps up, and she sees Bellamy- 14 year old Bellamy- sitting on the ground right beside her._

_"No your not!" She shouts, her tiny lips pouting. "You promised you'd never leave me alone! You're not allowed to die, I won't let you!"_

_He shakes his head, "You don't get it do you? Part of me will always be dead to you, as long as you keep expecting me to still be the same little boy you once knew. A lot has changed since then."_

_Clarke sniffs, smearing her tears with her palms. "But I don't even know this person you've become, he's not like you. He doesn't even love me... you're the only one whose ever loved me Bellamy."_

_Bellamy's young, freckle-splattered face stretches into a smile as he leans closer. He shakes his head again, laughing. "You can be so blind sometimes Clarke, I swear. It's like you're not even trying to see."_

_"See what?" She whispers._

_He presses a finger to his lips and gives her a wink, and then without another word, 14-year old Bellamy scoots himself towards the edge of the hole and pushes himself off._

_Clarke screams and leaps forward, watching his body growing smaller and smaller as he disappears into the darkness- vanishing as soon as his body hits the casket._

_"No! I'm coming with you!" She shouts, and jumps after him. But just as she starts to fall, a hand wraps around her wrist and catches her, leaving her dangling in mid-air._

_She looks up and her eyes connect with Bellamy, 28-year old Bellamy, and his strong grip tightens around her arm.  His dark eyes are frantic and he whispers her name, telling him to come back to her._

_"Princess..." he sighs, "Stop running after the past. I'm here with you now, and I'm not letting you go that easy."_

_"You don't love me!" She shouts up at him. "You're the only family I have and you don't even love me..."_

_Bellamy grins now and raises his brow, "Dammit, you really are blind aren't you Clarke?"_

_"What do you mean-"_

_And then Clarke's hand starts to slip, and she suddenly wishes she could stay but now it's too late. Now Bellamy is the one screaming her name as her pale fingers slide out of his grasp and she goes tumbling into the darkness below._

 

 Clarke's eyelids flew open. She was gripping the blanket with her fists, once again safely nestled in the cushions of Bellamy's couch. She realized a moment later that she was panting, and she shot up to to steady her breathing with a hand pressed on her sternum.

"It was just a dream." She whispered, for no one else's ears but her own. "Pull yourself together."

But her throat felt dry and scorched, as if the screaming in her nightmare had been real- and she shuddered at the thought.

It all felt so real...

 

She needed a glass of water.

 

She swung her legs over the couch and carefully walked across the beige carpet until her feet touched the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. She bristled a little at the feeling of the cool air prickling at her bare legs, and she glanced down to see that Bellamy's tee-shirt barely covered her pink panties.

The entire apartment was bathed in shadows, and she glanced at a digital clock on the wall that read 4 AM. She felt along the walls for a light switch, and then flicked the tiny lever to watch the kitchen come to life in a soft, hazy glow.

She rummaged around the cabinets until she found a glass, and then poured herself some water from a pitcher that stood idly on the counter. She almost smirked to herself, because any normal person would leave a water jug in the fridge, but even when they were kids Bellamy despised the taste of icy, cold water.

She sighed and leaned against the counter, glass of water in hand, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.

If some one had told Clarke only 3 months ago that she would be standing in her dead brother's apartment, sipping water from his faucet, she would have laughed in their face. Or punched their lights out, and then probably cried at such a cruel, heartless joke. But low and behold, here she was. 

 

"Clarke?"

 

Her head snapped up and the glass nearly slipped from her fingers, but she caught it at the last second.

"Bellamy!" She shrieked. "What are you doing awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He said gruffly.

Bellamy was standing in front of her wearing nothing but his boxers, and Clarke couldn't help but stare at the way the shadows from the hallway carved across the planes of his chest, accentuating the impressive contours of his stomach. He stepped further into the light and Clarke nearly choked on her own breath, because he was more stunning than any shirtless man she'd ever seen. Even the black tattoos wrapping around his biceps looked perfect against the golden hue of his skin. He watched her with eyes that were hooded and sleepy, and his hair was mussed into a tangle of dark curls that fell perfectly over his brow.

It took her a full minute before she realized that he was staring at her in much the same way, his dark gaze roaming over Clarke's messy hair and paper-thin shirt, finally dropping to linger a bit longer on her pale, naked stretch of legs.

He raised his brow slightly. "You didn't like the sweatpants?" He asked, and there was a teasing note to his words that relaxed her a little, but she could still feel the blush creeping into her cheeks as she quickly tore her eyes away.

"I uhhh- I was warm enough without them." She perched her hands on her hips, glancing him up and down. "You're one to talk."

Bellamy huffed out a tired laugh as he stepped around her to open the fridge. 

"It's my apartment, you're just lucky I didn't sleep naked tonight."

Clarke tried to ignore the tiny spark of heat that danced over her skin as Bellamy brushed past her with his naked torso, which she could swear he was doing on purpose. He jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter, his tan legs dangling off the edge as he opened a carton of Chinese food and dipped his long fingers through the noodles. 

He paused then, looking up to meet her gaze. She could feel him studying her closely, the silence stretching between them as his dark eyes regarded her in that mysterious way of his that she could never quite understand.

She wondered if this was a good time for her to go put those sweatpants on, especially since her step-brother was next-to-naked less than 6 feet away from her. She began to fidget and tug at the bottom of her shirt, trying to hide her scantily clad rear-end, but to no avail.

 

_For Godsakes Clarke, he's your family..._

 

A moment later Bellamy sighed, as if making some decision, and then leaned over to pat the empty counter-space beside him.

 

"Come here." He said softly. Clarke felt her whole body go a little rigid, and he seemed to sense her hesitation as his lips twisted up into a smirk. "I won't bite Princess, I promise."

 

Clarke sucked in a breath, and then made her way over to Bellamy and took a seat beside him up on the counter, her pale legs dangling next to his. She was quiet as she stared down at her knees, waiting for Bellamy to say something to put her back together again- to calm the storm brewing in her heart every time he was near.

But to her surprise, she couldn't stop the words that came falling from her lips first-

"I'm sorry Bellamy, I'm so sorry."

She sensed him tensing slightly beside her, but she couldn't bear to look at him. A moment later she could feel the warm, solid touch of his fingers as he slid his hand over hers on the edge of the counter.

 

She turned to him then, her blue eyes meeting his. And she didn't even have to explain what she was sorry for- for questioning his motives when they were children, for trying to run away from him now- she didn't need to speak another word because he already knew everything she was trying to say. Even when they were younger he had always been able to read her thoughts so easily, almost as if they were his own.

Bellamy's dark eyes searched her face, his deep voice cracking in his throat as he whispered- "I'm sorry _too_."

 

Clarke smiled faintly, and she found herself wishing that he would hold her close, or say something else... _anything else_...because the way he was watching her now was so unnerving that she felt a stifling heat begin to rise in the pit of her stomach.

 

_He's your step-brother...._  her subconscious reminded her.

 

As if reading her mind again, Bellamy mercifully broke their gaze and turned to reach for the carton of Chinese food beside him. He reached inside and scooped up the long, floppy noddles with his fingers once again and tilted his head back, and Clarke watched with baffled amusement as he dropped the noodles in his mouth and swallowed them down whole.

 

He held up the carton, arching his brow playfully at her. "Want some Lo-mein?" He mumbled, his mouth still half-full.

 

Clarke couldn't help but laugh. "That depends. Do you have a fork or do I have to eat it like that? Because I'm pretty sure I'd just drop them all over my face."

 

Bellamy's mouth quirked up at the corners and his eyes glinted mischievously at her. He immediately grabbed another pile of noodles and raised them high in the air.

 

_"Here Princess."_  He whispered, and she probably only imagined the dark, sultry undercurrent in his voice.  _"Lean closer."_

 

The oxygen hitched in Clarke's chest, and she had to remind herself to breathe. But with the way he looked at her now, his eyes all dark and full of intrigue- she would very likely follow him to the ends of the earth without question.

 

_What the hell was going on with her...?_ She wondered.

 

Clarke could feel her own heart beating in her ears as she leaned over Bellamy and tilted her head back, gently opening her mouth. He dangled the lo-mein cruelly over her lips, and she groaned slightly as she felt the slick noodles gliding their way down the back of her throat. She tried not to giggle when they tickled along her tongue, and she carefully straightened up again to wipe the dribbles of sauce from her mouth with her fingers. When she looked over, Bellamy's eyes seemed drawn to the movement of her throat as she finally swallowed. 

 

She could barely mouth the words _"They're delicious"_ as Bellamy was staring back at her in a nearly trance-like state.

 

"Yes." He breathed, sounding winded. _"They are."_

 

Clarke knew that something was happening here. Something had shifted in a new way between them, and it seemed to dawn in both their eyes at the exact same time. This pull they had, this alluring, relentless magnetism that tethered them together ever since they were children. It had always existed in some way, like when they were younger and Bellamy felt the overwhelming urge to protect his dear sister from the world, regardless of any cost. He had practically raised her on their own, with the fraudulent backdrop of parents who were too lost in their own sick, twisted world to pay them any mind.

Bellamy had always been there for her. And he was here for her now, all muscle and flesh and blood and heaving breaths as he looked into her eyes.

But the dangers were all gone now. Their parents were dead and buried, and all the horrors he protected her from had been buried right with them.

She knew that they were both thinking it then, the same question burning on both their tongues- _Where did that leave them now? Who were they to each other, if not a brother and sister who stood with their backs against the darkness?_

 

She cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away so she could think clearly if even for a second. 

"Did I do the right thing?" She whispered, looking down.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean my past..  _our past.._ should I have kept my life the way it was, when I only remembered the good times and knew nothing about who our parents really were?"

"I don't know..." He answered, sighing.  "That's something you'll have to decide for yourself. Whether or not knowing where you come from is worth all the pain."

Clarke flashed back to her life with the Griffins in LA, sitting alone in a posh home with all the opportunity in the world surrounding her. Her adoptive parents who cared for her, she supposed, in the only way they knew how. But that house always felt too big, and those rooms always felt too hollow and cavernous, and she couldn't help but feel lonely inside their walls.

"Would you have done it?" She asked him. "Would you have chosen to remember everything again, if you had a choice?"

Bellamy furrowed his brows, looking lost in his own thoughts. Then he carefully reached for her and tilted Clarke's chin up with his finger, forcing her to look at him.

 

"If it meant finding you again after fourteen years, than I would do it in a heartbeat. I made a promise to you once that I would never leave you alone, so it wouldn't even be a choice for me."

 

Clarke stared at him, absolutely astonished. Her heart swelled in her chest as his words mirrored back to her the same words she'd screamed to him in her dream-

_You promised you'd never leave me alone._

She blinked back her tears as she realized that her step-brother had every intention of keeping that promise.

 

Bellamy was watching her intensely as he moved closer, and his finger that had tilted Clarke's chin now began to slowly trace along the line of her jaw, his touch inducing something new inside her, stirring at something that felt warm and forbidden, and maybe even a little _dangerous_ , deep inside her chest.

 

"It's a shame." She breathed, her mind barely functioning. "That I still can't remember my first kiss..."

 

Bellamy's eyes darkened, and he drew in a shuddering breath as his hand stilled against her cheek. Every rational thought in Clarke's brain went right out the window as his gaze finally dropped to her mouth, and his thumb came up to brush gently along the curve of her bottom lip.

 

A litany of voices in her head kept telling her to stop, to pull away now or they both might regret it later. But she didn't care anymore, because all she could hear was the heavy breaths escaping Bellamy's lungs and all she could feel was the heat radiating off his bare skin, making her weak.

 

"I remember it enough for the both of us, Princess." He rasped.

 

Clarke's eyes were pleading as Bellamy's left arm curled around her waist, his calloused fingers grazing along the top of her exposed hip as he slowly tugged her closer, and closer until his breath tangled deliciously with her own.

 

"Show me." She panted. "Show me what it was like."

 

The fire that ignited in Bellamy's eyes was almost enough to finish her off right then and there. But then his jaw tensed as he drew backwards suddenly- releasing her and cursing to himself as he jumped down from the counter. Clarke's head was still spinning before she realized that Bellamy was no longer sitting beside her, his absence revealed by the prickle of rejection that left a cold shiver along her skin.

 

Bellamy groaned, his hands scrubbing over his face and dragging back through his hair as he slumped against the opposite wall now, keeping as much distance between them as possible.  When he looked up at her again, Clarke could see the emotions warring behind his dark eyes- torn, conflicted, lustful, and every other feeling that a brother-figure theoretically should _not_ be having.

His deep voice whispered to her- "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have done that." 

She opened her mouth to speak, but her mind was still reeling from the loss of his touch. All she could think to say was, "I uh- I think I should go back to bed."

She felt her body go numb as she slid off the counter and walked past Bellamy, purposely avoiding his gaze. But she could sense his eyes following her every move now, burning a hole in her back as she made her way towards the couch again to take cover in the dense shadows of the living room.

 

She thought she might have heard him pleading her name behind her, but it was drowned out by the sound of her heart breaking in her chest.

 

She didn't dream for the rest of the night.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

When Clarke awoke the next morning her eyelids fluttered softly against the pillow case, and hazy streams of sunlight were shining from the window beside the couch.

Clarke moaned, rolling over until she felt a piece of paper crinkling under her hand. She opened one eye to observe it, realizing that a post-it note had been stuck to her pillow. She reached over and plucked it with her fingers, holding it up to the sunlight so she could properly read it's inscription. It read:

 

_Clarke-_

_I ran out to get us some coffee, and when I get back I'm driving us to Circleville._

_I won't let you leave for the airport without doing this first. Princess, it's time we went back to our old home._

 

_Love,_

_Bellamy_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! Don't forget to review ;)


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